


The Truth, Part Five

by Seasider



Series: The Truth [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Friendships, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M Flirting, Underage Drug Use, underage alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:00:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasider/pseuds/Seasider
Summary: 16-year-old Luke adjusts to life with the Rebel Alliance.Of course he gets into trouble.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Friends
Series: The Truth [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775602
Comments: 56
Kudos: 91





	1. Trouble Finds Luke

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 corresponds with FFN 41

Feet hooked on the edge of the low table, Luke slouched in the chair and closed his eyes, listening to "The Fall of the Senate". It seemed an appropriate topic to study, given that he had been ensconced for weeks with a group that wanted to restore the Republic and the Senate. Granted, the audio didn't have anything nice to say about the Republic, but he suspected all educational datatapes were Palpatine-Approved and not to be totally believed. There was probably some truth to them, but he tried to balance that with what he heard from his new compatriots.

He opened his eyes and studied the people who relaxed in the rec area. Red Squad was larger than he'd thought at first. Pilots came and went on various assignments -- guarding troop carriers, sniping at the Imps, even ferrying supply ships. One young pilot whom Luke had met briefly and liked had not returned from his last mission, and Luke had been surprised at the lack of regret from the other pilots. There had been no talk, no reminiscing, no sorry-he's-gone, just a quiet that had lasted a few hours and more drinking than usual that night.

He wouldn't like to die unmourned. At least his dad would miss him. Maybe. "Hey! What the—!"

Luke looked over to see Porkins standing at the open storage room door, one fist planted on his waist, the other clutching electronic darts, glaring at the room in general. "What?" Wedge asked, glancing up from his zukodu puzzle.

"Look!" Porkins grabbed the edge of the door and swung it to and fro. "Vader is missing! Who took my Vader poster?"

"I put it under my pillow so I can dream about him at night," Luke said mildly— and truthfully— earning a round of chuckles from the other two, plus a couple snorts from invisible pilots somewhere in the barracks.

"Dear Lord Vader," Wedge recited in a high-pitched adolescent voice, "My name is Oz and I'm your biggest fan. Can I have your autograph? Or maybe a share of your estate? I will tell all the other boys what a wonderful person you really are, somewhere deep, deep, really deep inside."

Luke blushed as everyone roared, then grinned. "You won't be laughing when he writes back and gives me part of his estate! After all, how many fans can he have?"

"A few, I should imagine, in the Imperial camp," a voice behind him said. Garven Dreis joined the group and pulled a chair alongside Luke. "What're you studying, Oz?"

He unplugged the audio and held it up. "It's about the fall of the Senate," he said helpfully, just in case Boss couldn't read, and recited: "Corrupt senators dedicated only to winning benefits for their own planets, susceptible to bribery and blackmail, and power-mad Jedi determined to take over the galaxy, blee blee blee."

Boss shook his head. "The crap they give you kids to read! I don't know how you learn anything."

"So there weren't any corrupt senators?" he asked innocently.

"Of course there were, a few, as there would be in any body the size of the Senate. But they were far outnumbered by sincere beings dedicated to the welfare of the galaxy and all its sentient life. Unlike the Imperials, whose hostility toward—"

"You _had_ to get him started," Porkins grumbled. "Tell him about the Jedi, Boss."

Quickly stifled laughter told Luke that this was a favorite topic of Garven's. "What was so great about Jedi?" he asked, feigning disinterest. "Were they really trying to take over the Senate and control the galaxy like it says here?"

 _"No!"_ Boss exploded, much to the delight of a few pilots who staggered away, struggling to cover their laughter. "The Jedi were amazing fighters, risking their lives every day. Seeing them use lightsabers was awe-inspiring! They were brilliant flyers, too. No one could pilot like a Jedi, and they could fly anything. I knew one—well, knew _of_ him— He was the greatest pilot who ever lived, at least in my lifetime. I saw him make a landing on Coruscant with a ship that was being torn apart by explosions, losing huge sections piece by piece. Yet somehow he brought it in, saving the life of Chancellor Palpatine, who was onboard. As it turned out, that was a life not worth saving. Still... They called him the Hero Without Fear." Garven's enthusiasm faded. "I'm sure he died that way, too... without fear. What a waste."

"Anakin Skywalker," Luke said softly.

"Yes." Boss looked up, surprise flashing across his face. "That's on your tape?"

"No. I just... heard stories."

"Huh." Garven stood and looked down on him. "Tomorrow you'll start working on x-wings."

"What?" He sat up straight, blinking.

"It's about time!" Porkins crowed.

"Congratulations!" Wedge called.

"Uh, thanks," Luke mumbled, staring at Garven. Sure, x-wings were more exciting than transports and ground vehicles, but he'd be working on something that might try to shoot down his dad. Or Captain Piett.

"And if you'd like—I'm not pressuring you," Boss said in a tone that meant he _was,_ "I think you're ready to try the fighter simulator."

"We'll make a flyboy out of you yet," Wedge said unhelpfully.

"Tattoo-boy from Tattoo-ine becomes Fly-Boy," Porkins intoned. "This calls for a celebration. Break out the drinks—juice, of course," he added with a grin for Garven.

"I'm not your mother," Boss answered, shaking his head in disapproval. "If you can drink— _one_ drink— and be sharp in the morning, go ahead. Not you, Oz, you're too young. You neither, Wedge."

"You said you weren't our mother," Luke protested, though he didn't truly care. Drinking reminded him of Tatooine, and he could do without memories of that life.

"If I were your mother, you'd all be drinking milk," the older pilot retorted.

 _My dad makes me drink milk,_ Luke thought wistfully. He was getting better at the mind-talk business, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to spend _real_ time with his dad, live and in person! Which he kept saying and Darth Vader kept ignoring. "I _like_ milk."

"Baby Oz wants his milky!" Jek Porkins singsonged.

"You can be quite juvenile and annoying," Luke said loftily. "I suggest you act your age. Which I assume to be around... fifty?"

"Hah-hah, very funny," Porkins responded good-naturedly. "It's almost bedtime, Baby Oz. You should turn in so you can dream about your hero and be well rested for your important new job tomorrow."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Who's his hero?" Boss asked.

"He sleeps with my poster of Vader under his pillow."

"Sure he does." Garven sighed. "And I thought _you_ were going to be the obnoxious one," he said to Luke.

"Nah, Oz is a good boy," Jek called across the room.

Oh, terrific. Luke Lars Skywalker Vader, An Example For Others. "I'm going to bed," he said shortly.

"G'night."

"Night."

"Yo."

"Night, Baby Oz. Sweet dreams about your hero!"

"Not dreams." He turned and gave Porkins the most evil look he could manage. "I'm going to meditate," he said in a spooky tone, "and see if I can contact him through the Force."

In the moment of silence that followed, he went into his cubicle and closed the door firmly behind him.

**OooOoo**

"What'd you hafta to do to get a promotion?" Jord Slari sneered. "Or should I say 'who'?"

Luke wanted to ignore his fellow mechanic, but after a few weeks of working shoulder to shoulder, it was impossible. Jord was older, tougher, and with a rotten attitude. Bitter, too, because he was a good mechanic who had been stuck working on ground vehicles for over a year with little chance of promotion because of his personality.

"I work hard and keep my mouth shut," he muttered, climbing off the ladder to hang over the fighter's engine compartment. If he could have fit completely inside, he would have jumped in where Jord couldn't see him.

"You're such a goody-goody. Boss's little prince, Mr. Perfect."

"That's me, perfection personified." The spanner was just out of reach, but with a little Force nudging, it slid across the top of the battery compartment and into his hand. The best thing about working on fighters was that he was high enough for his actions to remain out of sight from those on the ground.

"Let's take a break," Jord suggested, staring up at him.

Luke sighed. Jord wasn't his idea of pleasant companionship, but he'd been working all morning in cramped conditions and it would feel good to get out. "Okay." If Jord hadn't been standing right there, Luke could have jumped and used the Force to soften his landing. Instead, he had to climb down the ladder. Jord was already heading behind a row of groundrovers parked along the back wall of the hangar, so Luke followed.

Jord sprawled on the cold floor and leaned against a 'rover. "Wanna smoke?"

"No." Luke twisted and stretched a few times, shaking out his arms before squatting opposite him, watching uneasily as the other mechanic lit a deathstick. "You can't smoke spice here."

"Who's gonna stop me—you?" Jord tossed his long hair away from the burning stick. "You need to loosen up, have some fun. Have you always been this prissy?"

He sank back and sat, uncertain how to respond. Sure, he was the son of a queen and a lord (Lord of the Sith, true, but hey, Vader was still a lord) but he'd never been called prissy or a prince until he got here. It seemed like years ago that his life had revolved around spice and stealing and creating as much havoc as he could manage. Now... well, he was busy, he didn't have time for screwing around.

Which, in a way, seemed like quite a pity.

"C'mon, take a hit." Jord held out the spice stick.

"No," Luke said, but took it and stood. "They'll throw you out if they catch you." His head spun a little as the familiar, compelling odor wrapped itself around him. For a moment, he hesitated—

No, his dad would kill him! Anyway, spice just wasn't _him_ anymore. No one would ever accuse him of being an addict again! Luke dropped the stick to the floor and raised his foot to stomp on it.

Someone pushed him aside. "Too little, too late," Commander Narra snapped. "Both of you, come with me."

Oh, krit. Luke sent a foul look at Jord, who promptly declared, "Hey, it's not mine! I'm just sittin' here mindin' my own business. It belongs to Oz!"

"It does _not!"_ He was nearly speechless with anger. "It's not _mine,_ Commander!”

"It just appeared by magic, eh?" Narra stubbed the stick against the wall, but kept the butt in his hand. "Follow me."

Great, just great. If they kicked him out, where would he go? It was pretty obvious that his dad didn't want him back on the Devastator. Maybe it was time for Oz to strike out on his own again and to hell with everybody else— his dad, this stupid Alliance, all of them.

But for the moment, he followed Narra back to headquarters, subdued and more than a little worried.

**OooOoo**

It seemed like forever that he and Jord sat in silence in the corner of commander's office. Narra ignored them, seemingly busy with the com and computer panels. The smashed stub of the deathstick perched on the edge of his desk. Luke saw Jord eye it a few times and wondered if they were having the same thought: grab it, eat it, and get rid of the evidence.

Luke sighed and slouched. "How long are we gonna sit here?" He heard the insolence in his voice and it sounded very familiar. "If you're gonna kick us out, just do it." Then he could go back to his dad and to hell with worrying about the Emperor.

"Quiet, or you'll wait in the brig."

"Been there, done that," Luke quipped, unable to stop himself.

Narra gave him the Look that Luke associated with his father, even though he had never actually seen it on Vader's face. He glanced away and stared at the window, counting the dead gnats that lay on the sill.

The door opened and in marched Boss and Wedge, looking grim and— oh, krit, _disappointed!_

Commander Narra rose and joined the other two, creating a solid wall of three between the door and the mechanics. "Our Alliance depends on volunteers," he began.

"They are the heart and soul of our cause, the glue that holds our coalition together. Without volunteers, those who enlist and those who serve in a less formal capacity, we would not be able to continue. It is an ongoing struggle to feed, clothe and house everyone, so we can only retain those volunteers who are sincere in their commitment to our cause. We cannot tolerate drug use or excessive alcohol consumption for many reasons— most of which should be obvious to you."

"Yada, yada, yada," Jord drawled, and yawned.

Luke winced. If that was the way he appeared to his dad, no wonder Vader didn't want him around! The Perfect Son idea hadn't worked, but maybe A Slightly Better Son was called for. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

"Suck-up," Jord muttered.

"Oz," Boss said, taking a few steps in his direction, "is the deathstick yours?"

"No, sir."

"Have you used spice since you've been here?"

"No, sir." He couldn't help but sigh. He sounded exactly like Jord had described: prissy. It was pretty obvious that he was losing his personality. Or worse, growing up.

"All right." Garven nodded at Narra, who walked around and opened the door. Luke saw two security officers posted outside.

"Jord, this isn't your first offense," Narra began. "We've given you every chance, but apparently you haven't learned your lesson. Since you know our location, we can't allow you to leave. You'll be locked in the brig for as long as we remain on Dantooine. At such time as we depart, you will be transported to the nearest habited planet."

"You can't do that," Jord protested.

"It's done." The guards responded to Narra's gesture and cuffed Jord, hauling him away still arguing and cursing.

The door banged shut, leaving the room in sudden quiet. Luke stood and grinned nervously at the other men, but Wedge and Boss sat down, which meant this wasn't over. What else could they possibly want from him? Oh, please, not an awful lecture like Jord got! "Uh... thanks for believing me."

"Next time, choose better friends," Wedge said quietly, and Luke bit back the obvious retort that he hadn't chosen _this_ one.

Commander Narra returned to desk and settled behind it. "Trust is important to the Alliance." He picked up a datapad and studied it. "Laze Loneozner... 'Oz' is your nickname?"

Luke nodded, feeling uneasy for no reason he could pinpoint.

"Indeed," Narra continued. "Just when did you stop calling yourself 'Fixer'?"

The question took a moment to register. Luke's mouth dropped open and he tried to think, but all that filled his brain was:

Oh-oh.


	2. Trouble Mounts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke’s lies begin to catch up with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN 42

Pressing his lips shut, Luke smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Oh... it's been awhile."

Narra returned his smile pleasantly, but his eyes were cold. "How long precisely?"

This was not good. "Uh... I started using 'Oz' after my guardians were killed and, uh..." The truth and nothing but! "...I was hiding from the Imps."

"So before that you were called 'Fixer'?" Boss asked from behind him.

Luke turned and looked at him. Just the fact that they were asking that question meant they already knew the answer. "Well... not exactly. I just sorta... borrowed it."

"That would explain the discrepancies in your background check," Narra said mildly, from over his other shoulder.

He turned again, edging to the side of the room so he could see them all and not feel ambushed. "I guess," he answered cautiously, not really wanting to hear the discrepancies itemized.

"But you _are_ Laze Loneozner?" the commander added.

Luke gave him a sickly grin. He hated such direct questions. They made it harder to lie. "Uh... that's what my ID says, right?"

Wedge choked and looked down. Luke hoped— without much hope— that he was laughing, which would mean Luke wasn't in a great deal of trouble.

"That's what it says," Narra agreed skeptically. "Fortunately for my peace of mind, there is someone here who knows Laze Loneozner and can help us clear up the discrepancies."

"Fabulous!" Luke said with a cheeky grin that hid the sudden flaring of his nerves. "Discrepancies can be such a drag."

Narra sighed. "Wedge, would you...?"

Luke watched until the pilot left, then asked: "So who is this guy?" A thought occurred to him: maybe it was Fixer! Maybe Fixer had run away to join the Alliance! That would be great, they'd be together again!

"A pilot who recently joined us."

"Oh." Fixer could fly, but not well enough to be accepted as a real pilot. He frowned.

"I hope you're not going to disappoint me... Oz," Boss said quietly. "You have a future with us. I'd hate to see it ruined for any reason."

"Such as espionage," Narra added.

He felt his eyes widen. "You mean _spying?"_ he asked, incensed. "I'm not a spy!" _I don't think._

"At last," Narra said to Boss, "a definitive statement. Let's hope it's an honest one."

"I'm too young and immature to be a spy," Luke observed helpfully. "And I don't lie well." A lot, but not well apparently.

Narra's head bent low over his datapad and he didn't answer. Luke looked at Garven, but he was studying his hands intently. Neither of them spoke, and Luke decided maybe he should quit talking too and stared at his toes.

They waited in silence for a few more minutes before the door banged open. "We're back," Wedge announced unnecessarily. "This is—"

"Luke!" an incredulous voice exclaimed.

Luke tilted his head sideways to take a cautious peek at the new arrival, then straightened. "Biggs!" Biggs Darklighter, the last person he'd expect to defect from the Imps! "I thought you were at the Academy!"

"I was, but—"

"You know this boy?" Narra interrupted. "Is he or is he not Laze Loneozner?"

"Who're you calling 'boy'?" Luke demanded indignantly.

Biggs looked first at Narra, then Luke, then back to the commander. "This is Luke Lars. He's Fixer's— Laze Loneozner's best friend. Luke, what's going on? Why are you calling yourself Fixer?"

"Oz," he corrected.

"What?"

"LoneOZner, get it?" Luke grinned. "Well, I couldn't call myself Laze Loneozner, could I? I mean, _really!"_

"He's carrying Loneozner's identity chip," Boss stated.

"Luke!" Biggs scolded. "You stole Fixer's ID?"

Denial was on the tip of his tongue, which he almost bit off in his effort to keep quiet. "Yes," he said reluctantly, because he didn't want to get Fixer in trouble.

"Huh. More likely he _gave_ it to you."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Why bother to ask _me_ if _you're_ going to answer?"

"Much as I dislike interrupting this reunion," Commander Narra began, interrupting anyway, "Darklighter, are you vouching for this Luke...?"

"Lars," Biggs confirmed. "Yes, sir. He was my neighbor on Tatooine. He's just a kid."

"Insult me a little more," Luke offered. "Please, give them all the dirt."

"Lars," Narra interrupted yet again, "your body scan is showing a metal hand. Is it a prosthetic?"

"No, I was born that way," Luke quipped brightly, earning a scowl from Narra but a hastily smothered giggle from Wedge. "Yeah, it's a prosthetic. Uh...farming accident." It was awfully hard not to lie. Impossible, in fact.

"What farming accident?" Biggs asked with surprise. "Since when? I never heard about that."

"It was after you left," he muttered, glaring at his unhelpful friend.

"How did it happen?"

"It just _did,_ okay!" Luke shouted. "Krit, why the third degree?"

"Because," Boss said before Biggs could respond with something stupid, "if it's a false prosthetic, it could container a tracker or detonator."

"Fine. _Fine!"_ Furious, Luke punch open the maintenance panel on the top of his right hand. "There! _Satisfied?_ Kritpeth! Can't a guy have any privacy!"

"Sorry," Biggs said sheepishly. "Did Owen—" He shut up when Luke rounded on him, ready to fight. "Okay, okay, sorry!"

 _No, it wasn't Owen!_ he wanted to scream. _It was my dad! My dad chopped off my hand! Happy now?_

He stuck his hand under Boss's nose and glowered, daring him to say one more thing. Boss took a close— too close— look, studying it for a long moment. "That's fine, Oz— Luke. You can get your hand out of my face now. You understand that we had to be certain."

"If you don't trust me, just say so!" he declared defensively.

For a second, he thought Boss or Narra might say exactly that, but after a hesitation the moment passed safely.

"You're both dismissed. No— you're _all_ dismissed. I have work to do." Narra waved them off, then called: "Lars! I don't want to hear another lie out of your mouth."

Luke Lars Skywalker Vader sighed. "How about if I just don't talk to you?"

Boss grabbed his arm and dragged him outside. "You never know when to stop, do you?"

"You'd be surprised," Luke replied darkly.

"Let's go somewhere and talk," Biggs said. "I have to tell you what happened to me. And I want to hear about you. I can't believe you're a pilot… er, mechanic. I can't even believe you're _here!_ I heard the Larses were killed and that you got away! What the hell happened?"

He tuned out Biggs's questions since they seemed never-ending. Maybe he could just go to sleep and wake up with everything resolved. He could be Luke Lars again, forget the entire Skywalker-Vader fiasco. Life would be so much easier.

**OooOoo**

Biggs filled the sad, empty pilot slot in Red Squad, so life was easier as it turned out—until that evening, after work was done and their reunion was interrupted by Commander Narra. Luke was getting tired of seeing him. "Now what?" he grumbled.

"Sir!" Biggs said, leaping to his feet and throwing a snappy salute. Luke sighed and shared an amused glance with Wedge.

"At ease, pilot. You're not with the Imperials any longer," Narra said mildly.

"Yessir, sorry, sir!" Biggs stood at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back.

"Sit down," Narra snapped before turning to Luke. "You have a visitor."

"A visitor?" he asked blankly. He couldn't imagine why anyone would come looking for him— except his dad, and there was no chance of that— and why the commander would be acting like a houseboy. "That's, uh... nice." Maybe Princess Leia was back.

"I believe 'interesting' would be a better word." Narra pushed open the exterior door. "Or 'highly suspicious'. Bring him in."

A handful of security officers entered, pushing before them a cuffed, bruised, and very familiar man. Luke gasped. "Jovay!"

The Imperial gave him an exasperated look. Luke clamped his mouth shut, too late.

"So," another voice said, "you know Karas's true identity." The security men parted to admit Commander Willard. "Lieutenant Karas Jovay of the Imperial Navy." The gray-haired man studied him. "Luke Lars again? You're very young to cause so much chaos."

"Thanks, it's my specialty." Luke gave him a disarming grin, but Willard didn't appear disarmed.

"Search his room."

Three of the security officers headed for his tiny nook. "You won't find anything interesting," Luke called, projecting all the Force persuasion he could into his voice. He felt a gaze focused on him, and turned to meet Garven's eyes. Boss looked... well, he looked like he recognized the Force when he heard it. That wasn't possible! Luke glanced away.

"We didn't find anything interesting," the officers chorused, thankfully not in unison, when they returned.

No lightsaber, no poster of Darth Vader—and his identi-chip was still tucked safely in a sewn pocket in his boot. There wasn't anything more to find except a very colorful wardrobe and a bag full of educational datatapes.

Luke sighed. He was under suspicion, Jovay was arrested as an Imperial spy—which maybe he was! With any luck, this was as bad as it would get. What more could possibly go wrong?

"Luke Lars, you're under arrest for suspicion of espionage," Commander Willard said.


	3. In the Brig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN 43

"Keep them separated," Narra ordered as they reached the temporary hut that served as a brig.

"I'm not a spy," Luke whined for the sixth time to the few pilots who tagged along on his walk to prison. "Honest!"

"Commander—" Biggs and Wedge both began, but were cut off.

"I'll be the one to determine that," Narra said grimly, gesturing to the guards to march Luke and Jovay inside. The door clanked shut, cutting off the last light of evening, leaving them with three guards and the sound of everyone else arguing as they walked away.

"The prisoners should be together in one room," Luke declared confidently, projecting his best Force persuasion talent.

"Not a chance," one guard said, pushing him into a tiny cell while Jovay was shoved into similar accommodations next door.

"Krit." Resigned, he bent over and took a close look at the bunk. He poked it. It was just a hard plank, with a none-too-clean rolled blanket and an unnaturally gray pillow. "It's dirty in here!" he called. "This is not acceptable!"

He heard the exterior door close.

"Jovay?"

"Yeah."

"What's the point of separating us if we can still talk?"

"Why are you asking _me?"_

"It was a rhetorical question, you don't have to get cranky. I suppose we're being monitored." He paused. "Do you think they'll feed us?"

"Frankly, kid, that's about the last thing I'm concerned about."

Well, food was important to Luke, but he supposed he saw Jovay's point. "So why are you here anyway?"

"I came to get you, Big Mouth!" Jovay snapped. "And now I may be executed!"

 _"Big Mouth?"_ he exclaimed, outraged. "Don't blame _me,_ you were already caught before I called you 'Jovay'!"

There was no defense to that obvious observation. 

"Why were you coming to get me?"

"Why do you think?"

Luke paced to the tiny slit of a window. The sill was filthy. He folded his arms. "You're trying my patience."

Unexpectedly, a bark of laughter came from the other cell. "Big improvement in vocabulary, smaller improvements in attitude. Still, I'd give you a seven-point-five."

He sighed and rested his forehead against the bars on the window, then drew back quickly, brushing dirt off his hair. "Would you just answer? Please!"

Jovay's voice lowered so Luke had to strain to hear him. "Your...guardian is worried about you. He wanted to see you."

Worried? Darth Vader, worried? "Huh." That was pretty impressive. And his dad was so worried that he couldn't bother to talk with Luke in their heads but wanted to see him in person?

On second thought, that was frightening rather than impressive. Just the idea of Vader being worried... "How did they find out you're an Imp?"

"I don't know." Jovay sounded vexed, as if the answer to that question was more important than being accused of espionage.

Luke stood in the middle of the cell, unwilling to lean against a wall or sit on that awful bunk. "Are you a spy?" he asked in a whisper. Either Jovay heard him or anticipated the question.

"No more than you are."

"But I'm _not!"_ Luke hugged himself. There was no heat and only one dinky light shining from the compound. "Whose side are you on?" Again he didn't receive a reply. "Why don't people give me straight answers? I'm getting tired of all the deceit."

A snort sounded from Jovay's cell. "You're a fine one to talk about straight answers. When was the last time you gave one to anybody?"

Miserable and cold, Luke paced around the cell that was barely wide enough for him to take three long steps in any direction.

"You might as well settle down. We're here for the night... at the very least."

If he were ten years younger, he could cry. "I'm cold."

"Don't you have a blanket?" Remarkably, Jovay sounded slightly concerned.

"I'm not touching that filthy thing!" Luke exclaimed. "It probably has... lice! Or worse!"

"What happened to the little Mos Eisley street urchin?"

"I was never an _urchin!_ And I was as clean as possible, considering." He edged closer to the door. "Did you see you-know-who?"

"No. He just sent a message."

"In your head?" Could his dad communicate with Jovay that way? Luke didn't like that idea at all. He frowned.

"What? Of course not. By com." Jovay muttered a few curses. "I can't believe this," he grumbled. "Damn, damn, damn."

"I'm sorry you're… arrested." He heard a rustling noise. "I think there's... vermin... in here."

Jovay sighed loudly. "That's me, lying down, covering myself up, and going to sleep. I suggest that you overcome your aversion to filth and do the same, or it will be a very long night."

"Then it's going to be a very long night," Luke grumbled.

He stood in silence for what seemed like hours, wondering if he could fall asleep standing up. Then Jovay began to snore, and he knew there was no chance of sleeping. _Dad?_ he called in his mind. _We need to talk._

**OooOoo**

Space spread out all around him, black and infinite, sprinkled with dots that winked at him. Luke swung his legs casually, slouching over to study the twinkling rings they were sitting on. He glanced back at the giant planet. "This is pretty cool. Thanks for meeting me here."

"It's your creation, not mine," his father said easily, swinging his own legs that for once were not, Luke noted with interest, clad in armored black leather. His dad was wearing a casual outfit consisting of a plain shirt, pants, and very good boots.

Luke looked up curiously. "Your face is like a fuzzball," he complained.

Vader chuckled. "Your mother called those dustbaas. After some remarkably stupid creatures that reside on Naboo," he added, responding to Luke's quizzical expression.

"Oh." That was no help, but Luke didn't much care. He picked up a handful of the material that composed the huge ring and let it trickle off his palm. "If we were really here, could we sit on this?" he asked hesitantly, wondering if it was a dumb question.

His dad picked at the stuff. "It does not appear to be solid. What do you think it is?"

"Rocks. Ice. Maybe pieces of space debris, broken-up planets, stuff like that?"

Vader nodded. "Correct. It does not appear to be capable of holding our weight, does it."

Luke felt better about having asking the question. "No," he agreed. They were quiet for a few moments, until he could no longer ignore the reason he'd called this 'meeting'. "I'm in trouble."

"Yes, you are," his father agreed, then spoiled everything by continuing, "although at this point, I'm more concerned about Jovay than you."

That hurt. Luke looked away, not trusting his voice to remain steady. He blinked several times.

"You'll be fine."

"If—" He drew a long breath to steady himself. "If I'm not executed as a spy."

There was a pause, then: "Do you really believe I would allow such a thing to happen?" his dad asked with rare gentleness.

Luke shrugged, but felt placated. "I guess not."

"Jovay is in the greatest danger. Alliance spies have been unusually successful of late, and I fear they will learn that he is a captain in the Intelligence Division."

"Oh. I forgot about that," Luke admitted. "So... would you let him be executed?"

His father sighed. "Are you determined to be contentious?"

"I'm not being contentious!" He made a mental note to check the language tapes for that word, but he figured it was close to 'obnoxious'. "I'm just wondering what he— how important he is to you."

"Why does that bother you?"

"It doesn't _bother_ me!" Although, of course, it did, but it wasn't something he was prepared to admit. "What is he to you?"

"He has already told you," his dad stated calmly, unruffled in comparison to his agitation. "Shall we talk about what really concerns you?"

"I'm all ears," Luke muttered resentfully.

Vader sighed again. "The Rebels know you are not a spy."

"Then why did they arrest me!"

His father held up one ungloved hand. "You said you would be all ears, not all mouth."

Luke rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "Fine. Go ahead."

"I am confident that they will see you are too open and impetuous to be devious, and—"

"Is that an insult?"

 _"Ears!"_ his dad shouted, sounding like Darth Vader even without the mask.

"Okay, okay. Don't pop a gasket."

His father cleared his throat. "They are already inclined to believe in your innocence. When you speak to them, use the Force to project sincerity. It will—"

"The last time I tried to use Force persuasion, it didn't work." When his dad froze and glared at him, Luke added, "Oh, c'mon! That's important! You're telling me to do something that doesn't work."

His dad gazed upward, obviously searching for patience... as if it could be found in the depths of space. For the first time, Luke could see that his eyes were shining blue out of that gauzy, fuzzy face. "You will not be persuading someone to do something against his or her will. You will be speaking the truth. With the Force behind that, your words will become even more powerful."

"Okay." He looked warily at his dad, wondering if he could ask another question without his old man blowing up. Vader looked back at him. "Um... so should I try to use the Force to say Jovay isn't a spy either?"

"Do you believe he is not a spy?"

Luke didn't need to consider it. "He told me he isn't. Sort of. I believe him."

"You're very trusting."

"Shouldn't I be?" he snapped, irritated that instead of being reassuring, his dad was being... contentious.

His father laid a hand on his shoulder. "I will not let anything happen to you, Son. Trust me. And if I can save Jovay, I will. But if circumstances force me to choose between the two of you, I will choose you. Always."

"Okay." He felt his eyes getting a little misty, so he opened them wide and blinked a few times.

"However," Vader continued, and Luke hoped he wasn't going to mess up his comforting words, "I believe you will be able to get out of this predicament without my help. You are both clever and innocent."

"True." He grinned, relieved that his dad believed in him. "I won't let you down."

"I know." Vader paused. "I also know that if I had said that I knew you wouldn't let me down, you would have been annoyed."

Luke made a face. At times, his dad understood him a little too well.

"You need to go back now."

He didn't ask why. Instead he flashed another smile at his father. "Let's get together again sometime." He leaned over and looked down. "Can I jump?"

"Go right ahead," Vader answered, amused. "Spread your wings and fly, my son."

The words sent a strange, pleasant shiver through him. His smile softened as he stared his father. He could almost see his face... almost. Maybe one day his dad would let him see who he really was. "Bye," he said quietly and pushed himself off the ring.


	4. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke tells the truth. From a certain point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN 44

When the first hint of dawn began to filter through the bars on the window, Luke rose from the squatting position he'd held for the last few hours, eyes closed, trying to pretend he wasn't locked in a tiny, dark box from which he might never escape. He groaned, bending forward to stretch his back, and rubbing his knees while he was down there. "I'm getting too old for this."

There was a large covered pot in the corner of the cell, and he forced himself to use it— eyes closed again, so he wouldn't have to see how dirty it was. Unfortunately, he couldn't close his nose to the smell, so he held his breath and finished quickly, then rubbed his sleeve against the bars on the door. He'd rather see out than have clean clothes. Spending the night in this awful confinement had been an experience he never wanted to repeat.

"Jovay? Are you awake?"

He didn't hear anything. Maybe Jovay was dead. "Jovay!" he called anxiously, louder. "Are you okay? Are you there?"

A muffled groan answered him.

"Are you hurt?"

For only the second time since he'd known him, a string of inventive curses came from the other man. Jovay's vocabulary was larger than Luke had credited. When the epithets ended, the Imp muttered, "I was asleep! What the hell do you want?"

"I just wanted to be sure you were okay," he replied sheepishly. "Sorry. I'm not scared or anything."

Jovay sighed. "Sorry I snapped at you. Did you get any sleep?"

"No." Meditation was just as good as sleep—or so his dad had told him. Luke didn't quite believe it.

"You should have slept," Jovay scolded. "You'll need your wits about you."

"My wits are always about me." He stretched from side to side. "Do you think they're going to feed us soon?"

"You think about food a lot, don't you?" There was another big sigh. "I suppose it's better than the alternative."

"What's the alternative, starvation?"

"No, Luke. Our predicament."

"Oh, that." He pushed his nose through the bars and flattened his face against them, peering sideways, hoping to see Jovay in his cell. Nope. "I hope they believe us that we're not spies."

"I hope," Jovay echoed, not sounding optimistic.

It was gradually growing lighter. Luke slipped his arms through the bars. They didn't go very far, but he knew if he just pushed a little harder, he could—

A vision of the ductwork in a certain ship rose in his memory, and he pulled his arms back out. He settled for curling his fingers around the chilly durasteel and leaning his forehead on his hands. He'd felt pretty good after talking to his dad, but in the cold reality of prison, his confidence evaporated.

He'd meant to ask his dad if they could just stay there— not sitting on the rings of an imaginary planet, but stay in their heads. Being there with his dad was much better than reality. "Reality sucks!"

Jovay groaned. "I hate that group. Their music is the worst."

"What? What group? 'Reality Sucks' is a group? A music group?"

"Never mind," Jovay said in a patronizing adult tone.

Luke opened his mouth to argue, but rattling at the door stopped him. "Someone's coming!"

"Maybe it's breakfast," Jovay teased, and Luke had to smile.

Until he saw that it wasn't breakfast. It was a stranger in an Alliance uniform. He looked at Luke with an expression that was unreadable except for banked hostility in the gray eyes.

Luke held the cool gaze. "Who are you?" he asked bravely.

The man folded his arms and planted his legs wide apart. "I am Lieutenant Nikran," he announced, making the words sound more important than they actually were. "I'm in charge of Security on the base."

His pulse fluttered nervously, but he didn't want to appear intimidated. "Well, you're doing a terrible job," Luke retorted, "because I'm not feeling very secure!"

"Luke!" Jovay groaned.

The man's jaw hardened. He opened Luke's cell. "Come with me," he said harshly, fastening binders around Luke's wrists.

"I hope you're taking me to breakfast."

"Luke, shut up!" Jovay called, exasperated. "You— Lieutenant— where are you taking him?"

"None of your business, spy!"

Luke cast a worried look backward as Nikran led him away. Maybe he was going to be blindfolded and executed. Maybe shot. Maybe decapitated. Maybe—

Wait a minute! He could use the Force! They couldn't do anything to him. Besides, his dad wouldn't allow it.

Feeling better— even a little cocky since he was out of prison— except he was filthy from that disgusting place— Luke marched alongside the head of security. He was taken to another building, another office, a bigger one this time. It was full of people. There was—

He did a double-take. For a second, he thought the old man with the white beard was Ben Kenobi back from the dead. But no, that was impossible. Anyway, this man looked harder, tougher... wearier. Which was saying a lot since Kenobi had looked all those things.

Luke tensed, studying the rest of the room. There were Garvin, Wedge, Biggs—was he in trouble for vouching for Luke?— Narra and Willard, and all of them looked grim. "The gang's all here," he said in an attempt at bravado.

"Shut up, smart mouth!" Nikran snarled, raising one hand as if to strike him.

"Lieutenant," Narra intervened, "thank you for your assistance. You may have a seat." The commander studied Luke. "Are you all right?"

What kind of question was that? "Well, other than being arrested for spying, stuck in a filthy cell all night, not able to lie down, and starved half to death —yeah, I'm just super."

"Luke," several people muttered.

"Young man," the Kenobi look-alike said, "this is a very serious matter. I suggest you conduct yourself appropriately."

"Who—"

"I am General Dodonna," he said smoothly, anticipating Luke's question. "I'm primarily here to observe. This is not a formal trial, but rather an interrogation to determine if there is a need to prosecute you further."

"I'm not a spy," Luke offered. "Really. And neither is Lieutenant Jovay."

 _"Captain_ Jovay," Willard said, making Luke wince, "is already scheduled to be tried for espionage."

"He's not a spy!"

"Luke," Narra said quietly, "we know he holds the rank of captain in Imperial Intelligence. He is out of uniform and on an Alliance base."

This was beginning to be seriously worrisome. "He just came to see me. He... watches out for me. He wasn't spying."

"Why would you need to be 'watched out for'?" Narra frowned when someone snickered. "Gentlemen, this is a serious proceeding."

"He watched out for me on Tatooine." Luke searched for something more redeeming to say. "He— he even helped me avoid being captured by the Imps. Really, he's a nice guy!"

"Luke," Garven said, "I don't know why you're trying to protect him or what relationship the two of you have, but I suggest you sever ties now. You're in enough trouble; you don't need to link his fate to yours."

What a brilliant idea! Luke straightened and faced Narra. He concentrated on the Force, trying to lace it through his voice the way his dad had taught him. "That's exactly what I want to do. Talk to us together. Bring him here for an inquiry before you go through with a trial."

There was a pause while the three command officers looked at each other. "I don't have a problem with that," Narra said after a moment. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yes," Luke said firmly. "Bring Jovay here." He paused. "Maybe we could have breakfast before the hearing? I'm really hungry! And dirty, I need a shower!"

**OooOoo**

Despite his lack of confidence at the end, the hearing was indeed adjourned for breakfast (no shower, to his dismay) though he and Jovay remained in the office under guard.

"I can't believe you did this."

"Got us breakfast?" Luke asked as he finished the last of his juice, holding the cup awkwardly between his bound hands.

"Damnit, Luke!" Exasperated, Jovay leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I understood the risk I was taking, and this wasn't part of it. You're more important than I am, don't you get that? I'll risk my life for you— but it doesn't work the other way around! Why are you so foolish?" He subsided when the others began to file into the room and take their seats.

"We're ready to begin," Narra said.

"If I may," Nikran interrupted. "The spy has just indicated that this one—" he gestured toward Luke "—is of more importance than he is. I'd like to know why. Particularly considering—"

"Lieutenant," General Dodonna interrupted with ill-concealed impatience, "Commander Narra is in charge. Stand down."

"Yes, sir," Nikran replied unhappily. He retaliated by dragging Luke's chair and separating him from Jovay by the width of the table. "Turn around and face the commander," he ordered.

When Luke and Jovay were resettled, Narra stared down at a datapad. "I'm very sorry to say that we've received additional information that truly disappoints me. You are still being untruthful, Luke."

The room stilled. _Krit,_ Luke thought, scowling, bracing himself for an announcement about 'Son-of-a-Sith'.

Instead Narra said, "Interesting prosthetic you have there. Good quality."

 _What?_ "Uh, thanks," Luke said awkwardly before recovering and adding, "If you think this is good, you shoulda seen the original!"

Commander Narra didn't respond to his witticism. "Imperial work. Military grade."

Luke shrugged. "So?"

"How did you come to receive an Imperial prosthetic?"

"Excuse me, sir?" Biggs stood. "If I may?"

Narra gestured an affirmative.

"On Tatooine, the only critical medical facilities are Imperial. It's a poor planet, so we have to use garrison medical resources."

"Mmm." Narra didn't seem fazed. "State of the art, extremely expensive, military medical resources?"

Luke looked at his hand and flexed it, impressed. Nothing but the best for Luke Vader!

"Well… whatever they have available, sir." Biggs sat down, and Luke wondered if he'd made the situation better or worse.

"Mmm," the commander said again. "How did you pay for it?"

Luke blinked. "Pay? We… I… didn't pay for anything."

"Generous Imperials," Nikran commented.

"So," Narra continued, ignoring the lieutenant, "if we had the prosthetic's serial number, we could search the Imperial database and likely find a reference to your procedure in… Mos Eisley, would it be?"

Luke sighed. "I don't know what kind of records they keep," he said— honestly, still.

"Then just take it off and check the serial number!" Nikran nearly shouted.

 _"Take it off?"_ Luke yelled back. "It doesn't pop on and off— it's a _surgery!_ Keep your damn hands off my...hand!"

"Lieutenant, I won't tell you again," Narra said. "At any rate, the Alliance is not in the habit of forcibly removing prosthetics."

"Good." Luke frowned at him.

"However, there's another little matter."

Right. First, there was always more. Second, it was never little. "What?" he asked wearily.

Narra kept staring at the datapad. Luke wondered if he was just trying to string out the tension or if he was really upset. Maybe it was a combination of the two. "The Galactic Database," Narra continued, "has no record of anyone named Luke Lars on Tatooine... or anywhere else."

Murmurs were audible behind him. "What?" Biggs exclaimed loudly, and was shushed by someone.

"It doesn't?" Luke asked weakly, still wondering how far they'd traced his identity.

"What is your real name?"

"I was raised as Luke Lars," he tried. "That was always my name."

 _Luke,_ a voice warned in his head, and he nearly jumped.

_Dad?_

_Be cautious._

Narra gestured to the door. A security guard opened it to admit a man dressed in the scrubs of a medic. "I had wanted to avoid running a blood test through the Imperial Database, but—"

"No!" Luke leaped to his feet. "No, you _can't!_ They'll find me— _he'll_ find me! _No!"_ A sweep of fire flared through his fear, like it was trying to burn him up from the inside. He didn't move, he didn't think he did _anything…_ but the medic staggered back against the wall as if struck.

_Krit krit krit!_

_Luke. Control your anger. Do not repeat my mistakes. Calm, Son._

He tried to slow his heart rate and calm his breathing. Everything around him was tense— even, it seemed, the very air— and he realized that he barely understood the potential of the power inside him.

 _What happened to my father will not happen to me._ Belatedly, he added: _Thanks, Dad._

He opened his eyes, unaware at what point he had closed them. Of everyone in the room, only Jovay appeared to comprehend what had occurred, and his concern gradually faded. However, the jerk security chief had to open his mouth.

"What just happened?" Nikran asked.

Narra gestured to the medic. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir. I… guess I just slipped," the man replied, not altogether convincingly.

Luke sat down again and addressed Narra. "I refuse a blood test. That's my right."

"You're in the Alliance—" Narra began.

"I haven't enlisted. I'm a civilian."

"Luke— Oz— whatever your name is," Boss called, "please. A blood test would clear everything up. Maybe you don't know your real name— that's nothing to be ashamed of. It would be better to know."

_Not the best idea._

Luke bit his lip. Was his dad trying to be funny? "I had a genetic test on Tatooine; that's how this whole mess started. Before that, I was Luke Lars. Afterwards, I was... in trouble."

Narra's white-knuckled hands freed the datapad. "Who are you?" he asked cautiously.

There had to be a way to avoid telling them he was Vader's kid. But how to—

_Dad? What should I do?_

_You must do what you think is right, Son._

Right. Okay, the truth then. He drew a breath to steady his voice. "The test showed that my father was a Jedi. That's why the Imps were after me."

"Impossible," Dodonna declared sharply, but his eyes betrayed his uncertainty. "The Jedi were celibate."

"At least one of them wasn't," Luke said dryly. His dad chuckled in his head, so he added quickly, just so they didn't get the wrong idea, "My parents were married secretly."

There was a stunned silence as if no one could figure out what to say. "So that's why the Imps killed Owen and Beru?" Biggs finally murmured. "Because they were looking for you?"

Luke nodded. Narra glanced at Dodonna, then back at Luke.

"Who was your alleged Jedi parent?"

"Anakin Skywalker," he replied simply, because it was the truth.

 _From a certain point of view,_ Darth Vader added.

Boss leaped to his feet, unable to control his excitement. "That's how you knew his name! The Hero Without Fear! That's why your fighter simulator results were off the chart!"

"Were they?" Luke asked, pleased. _Hear that, Dad?_

_I would expect no less from my son._

Luke rolled his eyes. Next to him, Jovay sighed, whether in relief or annoyance Luke couldn't tell.

"Everyone is feeding him answers!" Lieutenant Nikran shouted, irritated. "This is ridiculous! This boy is no more a Jedi's child than I am!"

"I have the results of my test," Luke said to the commander. He stood and slid down the fastener on his boot and used his nail to slit open the pocket. "Here."

Nikran snatched the datachip and handed it to Commander Narra. It was scanned into the datapad and Narra wordlessly passed the result passed to the other two leaders.

"Anakin Skywalker and Padme Naberrie. Skywalker..." General Dodonna repeated in a perplexed tone. There was something in his voice that made Luke wonder if he knew. But no... no, he couldn't possibly. "Still, we should do a blood test to confirm—"

"You can't!" Luke exclaimed again. "If you run it through the database, Palpatine will know where I am. He'll know where _you_ are. He'll send troops here! Don't you get it?"

Willard shook his head wonderingly. "Are you a Jedi, too?" he asked, and Luke couldn't tell if that was hope or dismay in his voice.

"Not really. I can do some things." He raised his hands and let the binders fall to the floor— a simple trick that shouldn't alarm anyone too much. "I had no Jedi teacher."

 _From a certain point of view,_ his dad added again.

_Knock it off!_

At the table, the three leaders leaned back in their chairs and whispered between themselves. Narra shook his head when Willard said something. Dodonna said a few words that silenced the other two and made them glance at Luke. He stared down at his feet. _Dad? You still here?_

_Yes. You are doing well... as I expected._

_Thanks. But a few hints wouldn't hurt!_

_You don't need them._

_Well...feel free to jump in anytime._

_I do and I will._

_And by the way,_ Luke continued, _how do you know what other people say here, but I can't even see where you are?_

_Experience and practice._

_But—_

_And for your information, I am in my meditation pod because listening to your 'stimulating intercourse' takes all my concentration._

He grinned and felt himself blush at the reminder of his vocabulary gaffe.

"You find this procedure amusing?"

"No, General," Luke widened his eyes. "I was just… thinking."

_Keep it up._

"Assuming this is true," Narra said, interrupting Luke's silent communication with his father, "how do you come to know a captain of Imperial Intelligence?"

"He let me go when the Imps almost caught me on Tatooine after they got my test results." He hoped he wasn't carrying things too far. "And he's sorta watched out for me since then."

"Indeed." Dodonna frowned. "I cannot imagine a scenario that would make an Imperial officer take such a chance for a strange boy— especially a Jedi's child."

"I'm not that strange," Luke muttered.

_From a cer—_

_Don't!_

"He's not precisely a stranger to me," Jovay intervened smoothly. "When I was a youngster, his father saved my life. I was never able to repay that debt to Anakin Skywalker—"

_Hey, Dad, this truth stuff is working out great!_

"—so when I heard the troopers were after him, I intervened."

"You didn't intervene enough to prevent Vader from capturing him!" Narra said sharply as if irritated.

Krit, did they know everything? "I got away!" Luke protested. "I was rescued by some Falleen!"

"You have uncommonly good luck," Willard snapped.

"Thank you." Luke smiled blithely.

"However, you were recaptured and taken aboard the Devastator."

Oh. "I got away again."

"Hmm. Hard to imagine Vader being so careless," Narra observed quietly.

_Pity he's aligned with the Rebels. I could use someone so intuitive. He suspects you're my son._

"What?" Luke fought back his fear. _What?!_

"And you came directly here. Thanks to you, Captain Jovay," Willard added, "and the 15,000 credits you paid us to take him."

There were audible gasps from the audience. Jovay said nothing, so Luke decided to fill in the silence.

"I was really annoying when I was on the ship. I even got stuck in the ductwork and they had to cut me out." He shrugged and tried to charm them with a smile. "Annoying is my middle name. They wanted to get rid of me really badly."

Narra studied him. "Is that where your hand was severed?" he asked softly.

Luke's mouth dropped open. "Uh..."

In his head, his dad groaned. _Luke...think before you speak. Please._

"Okay," he accidentally replied aloud, but everyone seemed to think that was an answer. _They sure know a lot. You have a really big spy problem, Dad._

 _Not for long,_ came the grim thought.

"They were _my_ credits," Jovay added belatedly. Then his face tightened as he looked at Narra. "Would _you_ leave a Jedi child with Darth Vader?"

"Hey!" Was that a slur against his father?

_Hush. Let Jovay handle this part._

"Right. So Captain Jovay," Narra continued, "you are saying that you risked your career, and possibly your life to repay a debt to someone who saved your life as a child? I am having difficulty accepting that as a feasible action for an Imperial officer. Exactly where do your loyalties lie?"

Jovay smiled slightly, but without humor. "Are you truly so naive," he drawled, making Luke wince at his arrogance, "that you believe there can be only two sides? Only black or white, no shades of gray?"

General Dodonna pounded his fist on the table and rose. "You talk in riddles, sir! Speak plainly, or we will judge you now."

"Oh, c'mon!" Luke snapped irritably. "Give him a chance! He's a good guy!"

"You," Narra pointed at him, "sit down. Nikran, get those binders back on him."

"What's the point? I'll just take them off again." Luke edged away from the security chief. "Krit, what'd I ever do to any of you? What did _Jovay_ do? Nothing! You liked both of us just fine, now all of a sudden you don't! What a bunch of hypocrites!"

_Perhaps now would be a good time to sit down._

Well, okay, if his dad suggested it. Luke sat. Nikran approached, picked up the binders, then looked at the command table.

"Never mind," Narra said wearily. "Captain Jovay... continue."

The emerald eyes flickered. "I can't say a great deal. But surely you know that among billions of Imperial citizens, there are a great many who do not agree with the Emperor's policies. Their number is far larger than the members of your Alliance or the Imperial armed forces— for, indeed, they are parts of both and neither. The galaxy is not divided in two; rather there are two declared sides with the vast majority of beings caught between them." He paused. "Neither Rebel sympathizers nor Imperial supporters... Should they not have a voice, too?"

The command staff members were quiet for a few moments. Luke shifted in his chair. General Dodonna looked at Jovay. "What exactly are you saying, Captain?"

"He's saying there's a third side," Luke interpreted freely. "What part of that didn't you get?"

In his mind, his father laughed before he scolded: _Luke!_

"Thank you for that explanation, young Jedi," Narra murmured.

"Jedi Wannabe," Luke corrected with a cheeky grin. "Can we go now?"

"Go now!?" all three officers exclaimed in unison. "Are you insane?" Willard added incredulously.

"Look," Luke spread his hands to show how reasonable he was being. "Jovay hasn't done anything to hurt you. You said he was a good friend to the Alliance, and he has been. If he wasn't, the Imps would have attacked a long time ago. He's just watching out for me— okay, and maybe doing a little side plotting of his own, but nothing that hurts the Alliance."

Jovay sighed. Luke ignored that and continued, "As I recall, he came here to take me somewhere— well, we might as well tell them— he came to take me to see a relative who's worried about me. Is that so awful?" Oh, krit! He was forgetting to use the Force! He concentrated, lowering his voice in case that made the Force work better.

"Jovay has not and will not betray the Alliance. Neither will I. Letting us go will only help your cause, because we have a mutual enemy—the Emperor. Let us go."

_Good job, Son!_

_We'll see._

Apparently his Force was in working order, because the commanders looked mesmerized. Even Jovay appeared a bit dazed. "Jovay and I will leave now," Luke added in a softer voice. "You will let us go. We will return when our work is done."

A few seconds of silence. He was feeling confident, but Dodonna blinked and shook his head vigorously. "For a moment—" the general began, then stopped.

"It seems reasonable," Willard said, puzzled. "But..."

"I'm not... No, I don't think so," Narra added uncertainly. "You need to... stay here. But... confined to barracks. For Luke. Jovay, back to the brig."

"Oh, it's so dirty there!" Luke murmured— Forcefully. "There is somewhere cleaner he could stay."

"I suppose we could put him in an empty officer's quarters," Willard offered. "Under guard, of course."

"Of course," Narra echoed. He blinked a few times. "This hearing is over. A reminder to you all that what was discussed here is to remain confidential. That means no gossip!" He stood, shaking his head. He looked at Luke curiously, then shook his head again. "Dismissed."

Not _bad for your first time,_ his dad commented.

_Thanks. I was hoping for a little better._

_You did well. We will talk shortly._

_Roger. Over and out!_ He smiled at Nikran's befuddlement and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. This was going to be interesting.


	5. Getting to Know Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke meets the real Darth Vader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN 45

"Where are we?"

"Where do you think we are?"

Luke sighed heavily and shot a martyred look at his father. "Can't you just _tell_ me?"

His dad shook his head.

"Fine." He looked around. They were standing on vividly green grass. The sky was nearly as blue as Tatooine's, with puffy white clouds, and across the field a waterfall thundered, sending a faint mist to gray the air. "It's like a fairy tale— I mean, it's idyllic. Is this a real place?" Before his dad could answer— or _not_ answer, which was far more likely— Luke blurted, "Is this Naboo?"

"Yep!" said a very un-Vader-like voice.

Luke turned his head quickly and was rewarded with a glimpse of the young man his father had been. He had time to see golden brown curls and a tall, slim build before the vision became hazy and again he was standing next to someone he couldn't quite see.

"Were you ever here?" he asked curiously. "Or are you imagining it?"

"This is a real place." His father pointed across the waterfall. "In the distance is the country home that belonged to your mother's parents."

"Are they still there?" he asked wistfully, though he noticed the past tense.

"No. They chose to live in the city after— Later."

"Can we see them?"

"Luke." His father shook his head. "That is not possible. We are not traveling in an astral sense, able to observe people and events. All this is in our minds— in this case, it is a manifestation from my mind."

"I know, but..." He bent over and ran his fingers through the grass. It sure felt real, sun-warmed and a little damp. Inhaling deeply, he decided he couldn't smell anything, which was weird. "Maybe we can come here someday. When the war is over."

"Maybe," his dad replied, but Luke knew that 'maybe' meant 'no'. His father's voice softened a bit when he added, "Your mother and I were wed in that house." Abruptly he changed the subject. "It is most unfortunate that we were not able to meet in person. I trust we will not be interrupted?"

"I'm confined to my cube, who's going to interrupt? What's the big topic of conversation? How to get me out of there in one piece? That would be a good start!"

"That, and more," his dad said grimly. "It is time to discuss your destiny."

Here it was again, Destiny-with-a-capital-D. "What do you mean, my destiny? Do you really believe that sort of thing?"

"A good question," Vader said dryly as they walked farther from the distracting sound created by torrents of cascading water. "My destiny did not turn out as it was foretold by the Jedi. Destiny, it seems, is subject to interpretation."

"Really? Who foretold it? What was it? What happened instead?"

"Will you stop asking questions until I _tell_ you to ask questions?" his dad snapped in exasperation. "Listen to me!"

"I'm all ears," Luke said with an innocent smile.

His father heaved one of those familiar sighs. "Your destiny," he began, pausing as if waiting for Luke to interrupt.

Luke continued to smile sweetly. But instead of the expected irritated and long-suffering look he usually got, his dad's figure blurred even further until the black-garbed image of Vader assembled out of nothing, as if the clear sky had been full of volcanic cinders that decided to cling together. _"We will destroy the Death Star!"_

"Ah-hah. Sure. Okay." Luke blinked a couple times. "What's a 'Death Star'?"

"The most significant achievement in modern warfare." Vader's breathing grew raspier. "It is a moon-sized battle station that can destroy an entire planet with a single blast from its laser weaponry."

Luke winced. "That doesn't sound good. Why anybody would want to do that? So... where is it and why haven't I heard of it before? That's a big thing to hide."

"From a distance, it appears to be another dead moon. The construction installation is in a desolate, heavily guarded region of space, so it has remained undiscovered for many years. Those who accidentally strayed into that space did not live to repeat their stories." Vader paused. "Now, however, its construction is complete. It must be destroyed."

"This does not compute, Dad. Why would _you_ want to destroy an Imperial weapon?"

The satisfied smile was nearly visible through the mask. "Palpatine will be aboard," he hissed. "Finally... he will be gone!" Suddenly Vader appeared to grow, getting taller, wider, bigger— so big that Luke had to lean back to see his helmet. A huge fist shook at the darkening sky. _"Together we are strong enough to defeat him. Then we will rule the Empire as father and son!"_ Thunder rolled across a sky that had turned from serene clarity to towering storm clouds in the space of seconds. A cold wind whipped around them, snapping Vader's cloak against Luke's face. He barely felt it.

_"We will put an end to this destructive conflict and bring peace to the galaxy! Finally— everything will be as I envisioned!"_

Luke stared, mesmerized. This was the Darth Vader he'd seen in holos, giving speeches, rousing the troops. This being was impressive, intimidating— terrifying. This was a superhuman figure, a total stranger, and—

His father.

_Darth Vader is my father._

It happened again. Pieces of a puzzle fell from the clouds instead of the hailstones that threatened to form inside the icy rain. He shook his head, trying to shift the puzzle pieces into a different pattern, one that was benign, even a little happy, but he couldn't make them move. Yes, Vader was his father, he'd known that since he was a child. And on the Devastator, that moment of realization had terrified him until he saw behind the mask of rage. But today, right now— it was more than a bare fact. This was real. This man was Vader the Representative of Evil, Vader the military leader, the politician, the ruthless enforcer, the man who wanted to command the galaxy... Vader the lover, husband, father. Luke had always understood... and Vader had shown him on the Devastator over and over— but until now, he thought that he had never completely absorbed the truth.

His father was... Darth Vader. His father was… someone he didn't know… didn't want to know...

 _Wait!_ His father had been locked in a prison for sixteen years. Luke had been in a prison for one night and had felt claustrophobic, nervous, worried— okay, even scared. His father's prison didn't allow him to touch his face or see his own eyes when he looked in a mirror. His father _wore_ his prison. No wonder he was the way he was! Luke dared to think something he had repressed, unwilling to face the possibility that...

Had Vader's prison driven him into madness?

He closed his eyes, searching inward, stripping away his dreams and wishes. Was he looking for ways to excuse his dad's actions? Insanity was a hell of an excuse, and maybe it was a possibility. But he also remembered their long talks, his father's flashes of humor, the many ways he understood and supported his son, and he realized that it was not insanity that ate at Darth Vader. It was something quite different.

Luke opened his eyes.

"Palpatine is deluded— so proud and confident that his monstrous machine will end the Rebellion. One great victory will feed his arrogance, and he will need to be present for the final blow." The smile behind the mask turned wolfish. "Then I will have him. He will die, and there will be no one to stop me this time!"

"So... we're going to destroy the Death Star so you can take over the Empire?" Luke asked, raising his voice to be heard over the constant rumble of thunder that pounded against his ears.

 _"We_ will rule," Vader corrected. "It will require our combined power to control and destroy the Emperor. I cannot do it alone. I need you."

"I see," he replied numbly. He pushed back the strands of hair that fell across his cheek, blown there by a wind that didn't exist, no matter how real it seemed. He felt like he was far, far away, watching this scene unfold in a holomovie, understanding all his cues: when to laugh, when to cry, when to applaud. Watching actors play the roles of Vader and Luke. Actors knew what to do and say; actors had a script of someone else's words. But Luke only had himself, and the right words had never come easily to him. Darth Vader was a tyrant who wanted to take what Palpatine had built, who wanted the galaxy to bend to his will... and who expected Luke to bend, too. For another man, the choice might be simple: join the tyrant or defy him. But this tyrant was his father, and that made his choice unbearably difficult. Maybe even impossible.

Luke looked evenly at his… father. "What would you expect me to do?"

The storm over their heads dissipated gradually, though his father remained in his Vader guise. "I am sending someone more competent to 'rescue' you from Dantooine."

"And Jovay," he added nervously. "I'm sure you mean to rescue him, too."

Vader paused. "Of course," he replied flatly. "The rest of the details can wait until we are together."

Luke folded his arms and walked away a short distance, conscious that his father was following him. He sensed that his dad was telling the truth about the Death Star, that it was a planet-killer. And wouldn't Vader be a better ruler than Palpatine? Especially with Luke there to monitor him. Assuming they could pull off such a surprise attack. "How could we destroy something the size of a moon? That's huge! I wouldn't even know where to aim— or what to use. Krit, how can I even fly? I've flown a TIE once, and only an x-wing simulator, not even the real thing! I can't—"

"You will know," Vader said confidently. "And I will be with you."

"I just wish we had more time together," he whispered, though the words didn't adequately express his real need or the deep anguish he felt.

“Luke, we have time. It’s not happening tomorrow.” There was a smile in his father’s voice, but it didn’t calm his nerves.

"I'm not trained, I can't do enough Force stuff. What if I fail?"

There was a chuckle, and he turned to see the younger man again, the one whose blue eyes pierced through the mist that blurred his face. The one who used to be a great Jedi. "You won't. I won't let you." Anakin Skywalker sobered. "Still, I wish that, too. I wish Palpatine hadn't learned about you. I wish I could train you. But..." He looked at Luke, and the veil lifted further until Luke could almost see his features. "There is another."

"Another what?"

"Another who could train you, if he will agree." His father's mouth tightened into a scowl. "A Jedi master."

"How do _you_ know a Jedi master!" Luke half-shouted. "You're a _Sith!_ You _killed_ the Jedi! What's going on!"

"You never know when you might have use for a Jedi master," his dad said smugly. Then his posture tightened, his fists clenching. "I knew he lived. And every day that he lived, he mourned for the lost ones. That was my revenge for the years he scorned me."

Luke shivered, hugging himself harder. "You're creepin' me out!" he protested jokingly, though in truth his father _was_ frightening him. Sure, all his life he'd heard about Vader's anger when he was crossed, but to see it in person, to be part of it—

But this was his father and Luke loved him. Nothing Darth Vader said or did would change that fact. Although it didn't mean Luke had to agree with him.

Vader's head swiveled away as if he was listening to something Luke couldn't hear. "I have duties. Go now."

"But—"

Before he could finish his protest, he was sitting on his bunk, his back pressed into the joining of the walls, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. His face was wet. "Krit." He hated this... waking up to find that he'd been crying in his sleep. This hadn't happened since he was a kid, and he was damned if he would let it start again now. Fiercely, he rubbed his face on his sleeve. He was an adult, he could figure out everything, he just needed time to think and it would all become clear... wouldn't it?

There was a rap on his door. The guard opened it without waiting for his response. "Visitor," he announced gruffly.

Luke sniffled, rubbed his nose on his sleeve, and looked up, struggling to grin. Failing. "Hey, Boss," he mumbled to Garven Dreis.

"Hey." Garven gave Luke a searching look but didn't comment on whatever he saw. Instead, he bent over and put the tray he was carrying on the bed. "Brought you something to eat. I know you're always hungry."

"Thanks." He wasn't hungry now, but maybe later the sandwich would look good. Like Jovay said, he had to keep his wits about him, right? Or maybe that just meant he should take a nap. Were his wits linked to sleep or food? Luke uncapped the beverage container, unnerved to see his hands shake, and tried to hide that weakness by taking a sip. "Milk?"

"You're a growing boy," Boss said sternly.

"I doubt it." He sighed. "I think I'm getting a taste for this stuff."

"Good." There was an awkward silence. "Not hungry?"

"Not right now. Later." He attempted another tremulous smile. Part of him wanted to make Boss leave so he could think about his father, but another part wanted Boss to stay forever so he never had to think about Darth Vader. Maybe he should tell Boss that he was a spy so they would execute him and he didn't have to face reality.

"Your father was a true hero," Garven said quietly. "I saw him use his lightsaber— in a vid, of course— and it was amazing. Too bad yours is broken." Boss paused. "Was that... _his_... lightsaber?"

It took a great effort not to roll his eyes. He couldn't shatter Garven's hero worship, but oh, how he wanted to tell the truth that it was just...

Or _was_ it his dad's lightsaber? Had his father risked an old personal lightsaber in the window of that Mos Eisley junk shop?

"Yeah," he replied shortly. Boss nodded and waited, as if he expected Luke to produce it. Luke folded his arms.

"I saw him once, making an emergency landing— but I told you that already. I was so impressed that I studied his career, followed the news stories about him. He was a great Jedi, a true protector of innocents."

_...slaughtering a tribe of Tuskens, even the children..._

"He and Kenobi were always rushing off to settle planetary disputes, stopping wars before they started, saving entire populations."

_...annihilating an entire metropolis on Falleen..._

"When Palpatine lied about the Jedi attempting a coup, Anakin knew it wasn't true. He rushed to the temple..."

_...bringing thousands of clone troopers..._

"...to defend the Jedi inside..."

_...to murder the Jedi..._

"...and there he died heroically, protecting the younglings."

Luke squeezed his eyes closed, trying to erase the scene his father had so vividly, viciously, described: tiny younglings cut down just as they began to understand that their trusted savior was their executioner.

_...and everything you don't know...like murdering his wife...and his son...almost..._

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." Dreis touched his arm briefly. "I just wanted you to know how much I admired him, and that... some things are worth dying for. Protecting others, protecting your beliefs... even when it seems futile at the time, the repercussions last through the ages. Anakin is gone, but he left behind a son to follow his path and finish the mission he started— to restore peace and freedom to the galaxy."

He opened his eyes and studied the earnest, painfully sincere face of Garven Dreis. _If only you knew._ Luke nodded. "Thanks."

"Sure." Boss stood. "I have to go now," he said, but made no move toward the door. He looked around pointlessly, then shoved his hand in his pocket, bringing out a chunky wad of folded paper. "Some say..." He cleared his throat. "There were rumors that Anakin didn't die in the temple, because there was no trace of him. No body was ever found, either in the temple or anywhere else." Boss shrugged and handed Luke the paper. "I found this when we were searching your room. Thought you might want it." He gave Luke an intense look, then nodded curtly and whirled, stalking out the door before Luke could say anything.

As soon as he began to unfold the paper, he knew what it was. He'd thought it still hidden safely between his bunk and the wall. He flattened the paper. The poster of Darth Vader looked back at him.

Luke stared at the closed door. Boss _knew?_ And he still considered Anakin Skywalker a great hero? If Boss knew, did the rest of the command staff know? If they did... what would they do with him?

There was a lot to figure out—and probably a lot more that he would never figure out. He only hoped he had the time to grasp the basic truths.


	6. The Death Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Big Boom and unexpected repercussions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN 46

Yeah, right. As usual, the luxury of time was denied him. It ended abruptly with the arrival of the smuggler Han Solo later that day, as Luke and Jovay discovered when they were hauled into HQ to confront Solo, his Wookiee copilot, and— big surprise!— Princess Leia.

"Hi!" Luke exclaimed, unreasonably happy to see her again. "Where have you— Oof!" Chewbacca squeezed him in a tight hug, growling that he was glad to see the cub. "Okay, okay! I'm glad to see you, too. Now lemme go!"

Leia's fists balled on her waist and her eyes widened in an incredulous response. "First you're a mechanic, then you're a spy— and now Vader has traded _me_ for _you?"_ She whirled on Narra. "I'm not worth trading for him— we don't know what intel he's obtained! Both of them— the boy and the agent! Commander, what's going on?"

"Who're you calling a 'boy'?" Luke grumbled, accepting his backpack from a guard and shouldering it. _Trading_ him? His dad had _captured_ Leia and was letting her go? Luke was willing to bet that Dad Vader was not happy about that!

"We have a good idea and have protected any damage he may have inflicted," Narra replied grimly, astonishing Luke by the easy lies, "but we have something more serious than Oz to worry about." He nodded to the security guards. "Take them to Solo's ship. With any luck, if we keep _our_ word, Vader will keep his." He paused as if he would add more, but shook his head. "Solo, you need to get out of here— now. Get Oz and Captain Jovay to Vader before he attacks."

"Wait!" Leia protested. "Commander—"

"No problem," Solo interrupted. "I got paid up front. Let's go, my Imp friends."

"I'm not an Imp," Luke mumbled under his breath as he and Jovay were escorted outside by guards and the two smugglers. He wished there'd been a moment to talk to Leia alone. Not that he had any idea what he would have said to her. He looked back over his shoulder, but since he hadn't perfected the skill of seeing through walls, he couldn't catch a final glimpse of her.

"Oz, a moment please." Narra approached, pulled him aside and didn't let go. His voice was barely audible. "Are you afraid? If you are..."

For a few seconds he didn't understand, then he did and smiled slightly. "No, I'm not afraid. I'll be fine."

Narra looked pointedly at his right hand.

"It really _was_ an accident."

The commander studied him briefly, then released his grasp. "May the Force be with you," he whispered.

"And you."

"Hey, Imp!" Solo called.

"I told you, I'm not—"

"Doesn't matter to me one way or the other," Solo gave him a careless shove. "Get moving, kid! We haven't got all day."

"What's the big hurry?" he complained as Solo hustled them up the ramp and into his old ship.

"Ah, Vader's got some big Imp weapon headed this way— and we're gettin' out of the way before the shooting starts!"

"Big weapon?" Luke came to such a sudden stop in the hatchway that Jovay ran into him. He looked at the Imperial. "The Death Star?" he asked flatly.

Jovay's face was unreadable. "Get inside, Luke."

He shook his head, responding both to Jovay and to what his own mind was asking: _Did my dad lie to me?_

No, that wasn't possible. His dad hadn't said anything about the Death Star coming here, where all these people were, where his friends— and Leia— were. His dad hadn't said—

_...we have time. It’s not happening tomorrow._

No, it’s happening _today._

_...One great victory will feed his arrogance..._

"Oh, krit!" Destruction of the Alliance's ground troops! His dad meant for the Death Star to destroy Dantooine, then move on to finish off the rest of the Rebel fleet where they hid. That was when Palpatine would come, hovering and spying like a carrion bird to watch the death of the Alliance. And if Luke and his dad couldn't destroy the Death Star, if the rebellion was defeated, there would be no one left to oppose Palpatine, not even Darth Vader. The galaxy would live in fear of the Emperor's displeasure. After Palpatine died, there would be another tyrant to take his place... maybe Vader, or maybe someone else...

...maybe Luke Skywalker.

_Some things are worth dying for._

"You said it, kid," Solo muttered nervously, glancing upward as though he could see the approaching Death Star. "It's one hell of a monster. Let's get a move on."

"No!" He pushed past Jovay and broke free when the officer grabbed at him. Racing down the ramp, he set out toward the base's HQ at a dead run.

"Wait!" he heard Jovay call, then add quietly, "Take off and you're a dead man, Solo. I'll bring him back!"

"No, you won't!" he shouted into the rushing wind, barreling downhill to his Rebel friends.

_Friends?_

Yeah, they were his friends— even if Leia thought he was a spy— and he'd be damned if he'd zip safely into space while they were being slaughtered. Anyway, after Dantooine, no planet would be safe! His dad said he could destroy the Death Star— all right, then he'd do it! He didn't know how, but his dad said there way—-

He faltered and his frantic race stopped. His dad had said there was a way and that Luke would know. But he didn't have a clue. Oh, krit, why hadn't he paid more attention!

Well, fine, he'd protect the Rebels in whatever way he could, even if his efforts were futile, like Boss said. Luke tore off his backpack just as Jovay reached him.

"Come on, that's an order."

"You're not the boss of me!" Flinging open the pack, he began searching through it, pulling out clothes and throwing them aside until he found what he wanted. "I'm going to stop the Death Star."

"Oh, yeah? With what?"

"With the only thing I have— this." He stood and waved the lightsaber in Jovay's face.

The officer gave a disgusted grunt. "Don't be childish. We don't have time for games. That thing doesn't even work. We've got to leave."

"I'm not going!" His dad wouldn't let this place be blown up if he stayed here. No way! That was the answer! All Luke had to do was contact his father and— No, then the Death Star would still be a threat. In that case— "Hey, hold on a minute!" he exclaimed suspiciously. "How do _you_ know my lightsaber doesn't work?"

"You told me," Jovay said easily.

"I did not." His eyes narrowed. "Are you in on my father's plotting, too? What else do you know?"

"Luke—"

He stared at Jovay, then at the non-functioning lightsaber. His dad had said there was a way and Luke would know. And, quite suddenly, he did know.

"Holy Sith!" He looked into green eyes that reflected his own agitation. "We're going to stop the Death Star here, today. Or are you really prepared to stand by and let the Rebellion die? That would put an end to your 'third side', too, wouldn't it?" Luke stopped and caught his breath. "Or is that part of your plan? Do you think the destruction of a planet will rouse the 'third side' into action?" He shook his head. "There'll be no stopping Palpatine after he uses the Death Star, no matter what my father thinks. He knows he can't do it alone. He needs me. And I'm not leaving Dantooine."

Jovay's cool exterior was cracking. He put his hands on his hips, shook his head and looked around. The indecisiveness on his face changed abruptly, first to frustration, then decision. "Damnit, Luke!" His arms shot out, fists clenched. "All right! But if we live through this—"

"I won't let you be in hot water with my dad." He grinned. "Let's go!"

Jovay was damn good. It was momentarily disconcerting to see the swiftness with which he disposed of the security guards. Luke blinked, then pushed inside the hangar, running toward the group in the center— as fast as he could, though it appeared no one even noticed, let alone cared to stop him.

"—whether it was an accident or sabotage, I thought we'd seen the last of the Death Star a decade ago," Willard was saying bitterly, "but he's built another one. How did he find us? It's over. Everything is over."

 _Sabotage?_ For a second, the room became distant, and he could see his father clearly. There had been an _earlier_ Death Star? And his father had—? The impression faded before he could interpret what he had seen.

"Oz!" Leia exclaimed.

"What the hell is he still doing here?" Willard snapped.

"This!" Carefully, Luke laid his lightsaber on the table. While the others watched in a silence born of desperation, he removed the protective caps and unscrewed the pins, carefully disassembling it until he reached the activator. There, blocking the connection, was what he suspected he would find: a tiny silver cube. He pried it out and held it up.

"If I'm not mistaken, this contains the technical readouts for the Death Star."

**OooOoo**

Biggs was dead behind him, the others incapacitated, their fighters crippled and useless. Now all that could stop Luke from firing the torpedo that would destroy this vile battlestation was one very persistent TIE fighter piloted by the most persistent man in Luke's personal universe.

Darth Vader. Dad.

_You're here! No wonder we could communicate so easily! Why didn't you tell me?_

_Stop! No, Luke! It's too soon! Palpatine is safe on Coruscant. If you destroy the Star, he will build another. And another and another! Pull up, you must pull up!_

He tried to focus on his unfamiliar targeting computer, struggling to ignore the voice in his head that alternately raged, reasoned and pleaded.

_Luke! You're making everything worse! Pull up now! It's not too late!_

_It is too late! _ he lashed back. _I won't let everyone on this base be killed!_

 _Everyone on the base!_ Vader shouted in his head. _If you're so worried about killing, what about everyone on the Death Star?_

 _You're willing to sacrifice them anyway!_ he shot back. _The only way to stop me is to shoot me down—are you willing to sacrifice_ _me_ _?_

There was a terrible silence. It lasted only seconds, but to Luke it felt like hours. Then: _So... You will betray me, too? _

The tone was heavy, lethal. He felt the blood rush out of his head, leaving him nauseous and dizzy. — _(She betrayed me and I killed her)— No, no, no—_

_Dad—no! I'm not betraying you! I love you! We can still destroy Palpatine, but I can't let all these people die. This isn't right— I can feel it's not right!_

_Young one, you are a fool!_ Vader answered bitterly. _An arrogant, blind fool! If you think I'm going to allow you to ruin everything I have planned—_

From nowhere, two TIE fighters swooped toward him, lasers slicing brilliant lines across his screen, aiming for Luke with frightening accuracy. Even before he could take evasive action, his father blew them into sparkling bits that vanished from his vision as he continued speeding toward his goal.

Luke smiled tightly. He had his father's answer. _Thanks, Dad. Look... let's get together later and re-think this plot of yours, okay? Maybe you could help me target this thing, back me up? I can't get a lock on the exhaust port and it's coming up soon—_

 _It's coming up_ _now_ _, young one! We won't get another chance now that they know we can penetrate its defenses! Luke, your targeting computer is unnecessary, it only hinders you— use the Force! Remember what I taught you. Clear your mind. Focus!_

He closed his eyes, seeing the port through his mind. It was simple, then, to find the target, to aim his torpedo, to wait for the right millisecond to fire the—

His head echoed with a mental shout of rage that jolted his concentration. Over his headset, he heard another voice. "Okay, kid, you're clear! Now let's blow this thing and get out of here!"

It wasn't until the torpedo was speeding on its way and he had pulled out of the trench that he realized what had happened. Solo, of all people, had come back to help and had attacked his father—

 _Dad!_ Luke called frantically, wincing as the repercussions from the horrific explosion hit his x-wing...and something more, screams that echoed around inside his head. He held tightly to the controls, riding out the both waves of turbulence as he tried to out-race the hurtling debris and leave behind whatever was chasing him. _Dad, are you okay? Where are you?_

He didn't relax until he heard the slightly dazed reply. _Damned pirate. I appear to be intact, as does my fighter._

Relief flooded him. _Father..._

_Son. Come with me. I will hide you somehow, teach you, and when you are ready..._

His relief faltered. This wasn't a decision he could put off or avoid entirely. In an instant he had to weigh his alternatives: his lifelong desire to be with his father against his awareness that his father's path might not be his path. Darth Vader was walking somewhere that Luke didn't want to go... somewhere Luke didn't belong.

 _I can't,_ he sent, hoping his dad could hear his regret. _You're going somewhere I can't follow. I'm not Luke Vader. I'm Luke Skywalker. I want to learn about the Force and become a Jedi... like my father._

To his great sadness, there was no reply, not as he followed the Millennium Falcon back to the base on Dantooine, not as he landed the x-wing on a bare strip of ground that led to a hanger. He popped open the canopy, tossed aside his helmet, and jumped down without the aid of a ladder. Apparently he'd achieved the goal that he'd once selected so frivolously: he was a hero.

It didn't feel as good as he'd thought it would. In fact, he felt nauseous and dizzy and… wrong.

"Luke!" a familiar voice called, and he looked up to see Karas Jovay rushing down the Falcon's ramp along with Solo and Chewbacca. He smiled as the Imperial officer pushed through the clusters of beings.

But before Jovay could reach him, someone else was there— someone big, crowding against him, pushing him back until his head hit the ship.

Dodonna.

"I'm sorry for the loss of your friend, Oz," the general hissed, too close, right against his ear, "but take solace in knowing that Darklighter will always be revered as the pilot who destroyed the Death Star." Fingers curled around his right shoulder, digging in, bruising. "Understand?"

 _No,_ he wanted to say but lips wouldn't form the word. "I—I—" His heart was thudding and it was ridiculous— he wasn't afraid of Darth Vader, and this man wasn't nearly as scary— this man was— "Yes," Luke said numbly.

Jovay was hovering, glowering at Dodonna, but the general ignored him, his narrow gaze piercing into Luke's eyes for long seconds before he abruptly released him and stalked away.

"What the hell?" Jovay muttered, finally reaching him. One hand was placed on his shoulder as if it could take away the pain that had just been inflicted.

"What's going on?" Luke heard his voice shake. He'd just gotten through combat and _now_ he was afraid? Of _that_ old guy?

"I don't know, but I'm damn well going to find out." Jovay glared as two young men came hurrying toward them.

"Is that him? Is that Darklighter?" one asked eagerly.

"No, get back!" the captain ordered.

"He's dead," Luke said woodenly. "Biggs is dead." But they didn't hear him, already rushing off to find the hero.

"Don't say any more to anyone," Jovay muttered, "until I find out what's happening. Let's get you back to your barracks."

"Before they decide to arrest us again?" Luke half-laughed with bitterness.

Karas paused and looked around. "Ah… damn. Antilles is gone. So is Dreis. And I don't see Nikran anywhere."

"What d'you mean?"

"Everyone who was at our interrogation." He swore under his breath. "They're erasing Luke Skywalker."

"What?" he repeated uncomprehendingly. "How can they—"

"They are. Let's go." He kept a tight grip on Luke's elbow, steering him through the chaos in the hanger bay.

Red Barracks was nearly deserted. Only Jek Porkins was there, combing his hair, staring seriously into a mirror mounted on the wall.

"Get out!" Jovay snarled, and Porkins started.

"Huh?"

"Get out!" This time Jovay roared the order.

Porkins was visibly alarmed but still looked to Luke. "Oz, are you—"

He nodded. "Fine. Just go." He waited until the pilot left before turning to his friend. "What do you mean, 'erase' me?"

"Your identity. Probably Luke Lars, too. Which is your bunk?"

Luke gestured to his tiny shelter. "Here. But—"

"Get out of the pilot uniform. Wear the mechanic's overalls… or better yet..." Jovay began to paw through his pack. "Here, some of your old clothes. Not the street kid stuff, you want to be inconspicuous."

"But why?" Along with confusion and frustration, Luke felt hurt. "Why? I did the right thing! I did my best! I destroyed the Death Star!"

Jovay paused, sober as he studied Luke's expression. "I know. You're a lot like your father," he offered quietly, and Luke's heart sank.

"You think so?" he asked dully.

"Yes. Stubborn." The corners of Jovay's mouth turned down. "Determined to do what you think is right. That's all he ever did, you know."

The din of congratulatory shouts outside was ringing in his mind as well as in his ears. He was The Hero, but none of it was for him. "That's supposed to make me feel better?" he asked angrily, hissing under the cover of the noisy celebration. "I'm exactly like him, is that what you're saying? That I'll become what he is— Do the things that he did?"

_Did I do it already? The Death Star...?_

Jovay tilted his head and shrugged. "I guess that depends on what you believe is right."

He stared, feeling a wash of painful understanding overwhelm his need to be a hero. That was it, the difference between him and his father. The truth was, what he and Vader believed was completely different. His father needed power and possessions— people, planets, even an entire galaxy; he thought ownership would make him feel safe, but Luke doubted that anything could ever do that for Darth Vader. Luke didn't need safety; he believed there might be causes more important than his personal needs, even more important than his life. Maybe it was the Rebellion; maybe it wasn’t. But that possibility was why he should walk away from his father, abandon the one person in the galaxy who understood him. He finally saw that cold part of himself, and it hurt.

His dad would never understand why he blew up the Death Star now instead of waiting. Choosing his friends over his father. Would his father see him as an enemy now? Sorrow erupted in his heart, and he bowed his head. He couldn't expect Vader to accept his decision. He might never see his father again, and a great hole grew inside him, bigger and bigger and then—

In the midst of the non-stop yelling and talking, a voice rang clear and cold in his head.

_Do not attempt to contact me again._

He staggered, and Jovay caught his arm. "What is it?"

Luke shook his head. "Nothing. I..."

"Then get changed and wait here. I'll be back."

When the door slammed behind Karas, Luke sagged onto on his bed. _Dad?_

_Father?_

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

_Dad? ...I'm sorry... Dad?_

It was the hole inside him, the one that started moments ago. Now it swelled, taking over everything, filling him until he felt nothing but...

Empty.

Like the first fifteen years of his life. Empty.

_Dad?_


	7. Downhill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke is angry, Luke is upset, Luke is hurt, Luke falls into old bad habits. But damn, he’s had a difficult few months, right? WARNINGS for the underage alcohol/drug use, M/M flirting, and a reckless Luke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN 47

———-

His old clothes were so boring. Luke sighed as he sifted through them. _Inconspicuous_ … why did he need to be?

The door banged open and he jumped up, but it was only Jovay again. "What now?"

The man took off his cap and laid it on the table. He shook his head and said nothing.

Silence made Luke unreasonably nervous. "My dad won't talk to me," he blurted. "In my head, I mean. He's angry about… you know… how I ruined his plans. But I couldn't let everyone here die! What if he never speaks—"

"Stop. Just stop." Jovay swiped across his face with one hand, then ran it through his hair. "Listen to what you're saying."

Sorting through his words and thoughts, Luke said: "You mean about the Death Star? I did the right thing—"

The captain held up both hands to prevent an outpouring of defense. "When I said you're like him... that you do what you think is right, I meant... Oh, _damn."_

"What's wrong?"

Fists clenched and unclenched. "My mandate is to protect you. Physically. But..." Jovay hesitated. "I can't keep my mouth shut. That's always been my problem." His gaze turned distant for a moment before turning back to Luke. "The people here, on the base… why are they here?"

"What do you mean?" Luke moved closer. "They're the Alliance. The Rebels. They're fighting to return peace and freedom to the galaxy."

Jovay laughed without humor. "The party line."

"They are!"

"Would they sacrifice their lives for that goal?"

"Yes! So would I!" _Maybe. Well… maybe not…._

"You don't get it." Jovay shook his head. "You and your father… you're both so damn self-serving. Always doing what you want, pretending— even _believing—_ it’s for the greater good of the galaxy. But it's always _personal."_

"That's not true," Luke denied heatedly. "We saved everyone here on the planet… but the Death Star, that was— that was— they would have been sacrificed one way or another."

 _How many?_ someone asked.

"You sure about that?" Jovay looked at the floor, then back up at him. "You chose to save your friends—who were willing to _sacrifice_ themselves if it meant eliminating Palpatine and the Empire. And your father saved _you_ instead of the Death Star that would have eventually accomplished that end. Same thing, the very same thing. Both of you. Your _personal_ desires take priority over the needs of hundreds of billions of beings who are ruled and enslaved by the Empire."

Luke stared at him, struggling to understand... but there should be no struggle. It was so easy to see. Why had he never seen it? Why had his _father_ never seen it? If neither of them had…. "That's not true."

"Think about it. Really _think_ and you'll see it's always personal with you. And with him. You two like to believe you're working for a greater goal, that you have such special destinies, that no one else will understand or appreciate you and what you do, but your entire lives have been centered—"

"That's enough," he said as softly as possible. "Get out. Go. Just...go. You don't know anything about us."

"I know what you don't _want_ to know." The cap was picked up, rotated in nervous hands. "If you still want to leave—"

"Please. Go.” _Before I do something we’ll both regret._ “I need...time."

"Very well. I'll return after I talk to Command and find out what they're doing. But Luke... _think._ It's not too late to change the course of your life. And maybe, just maybe...your father's."

In a moment he was alone again. _Think._ He should stop shaking and think… but he was supposed to get dressed too. It was too overwhelming, he couldn't do both. Be inconspicuous. Be...

_He could be Oz again._

It was so easy. Slip into the old clothes, slip into his old self. Don't think.

But this time Oz was tired and angry and confused. He'd lost his father— no, he'd _thrown away_ his dad by choosing the Alliance over the man who would've stood by him, loved him—

_It's always personal with you._

No. Don't think, not yet.

The Alliance didn't give a damn about him. They wanted him erased?!

What did he do to deserve that?

... _personal_...

No. Not thinking about that now, too much.

He didn't have the Rillavin's boots any longer, but everything else made him into a rainbow of red, purple, blue, gold, green. If he only had face paint and hair color. His reflection in the mirror was a shock, and he twisted the bright scarf over his head. He looked like a child playing dress up, but… they didn’t want _Luke,_ so if it was Oz they wanted, then Oz they would have. Jovay wouldn't be pleased, but Oz was Oz.

Impatient for Jovay who was taking his own sweet time to come back, he stormed out of the barracks and immediately ran into a couple mechanics he knew. Drunk.

"Whoa, party!" one exclaimed. "I'm goin' where you're goin'!"

"No, you're not," Luke said flatly, shoving them aside. He paused, then headed to the command center. His mind raced ahead, but he couldn't locate Jovay. Still, there were people inside. Instead of entering, he slid alongside the building into a shadow, then Force-sharpened his hearing like his… dad… had taught him.

"—a wild card. If he steps out of line—" Willard.

"He's my head of Security, he won't." Narra.

"You have Antilles under control?" Dodonna.

"Not 'under control'," Narra snapped. "He understands."

"He'd better. From now on, there's no more Skywalker...or Lars." Dodonna.

"What about Lu— Oz? Does he understand?" Willard.

"I told him. He'd better be smart enough to know that it has to be done." Dodonna.

"I hope so. The money Vader promised is enough to help us stay afloat."

 _Money_ ? What in the name of— ?! Luke held his breath and pressed himself back farther into the darkness. His day was _paying_ them?

"If Vader comes through with it."

"Why wouldn't he?"

"The Emperor will know Vader shot down the two TIEs that were trailing the pilot. He'll have to answer for that."

... _personal_...

"Somehow I don't think the Emperor will care about two TIEs."

"Unless Palpatine finds out just _who_ Vader was protecting."

… _you two… it's always personal..._

"I've checked our coms. Even if the Empire has them, no one mentioned his name."

Narra sighed. "Let me play our intercept of Imperial transmissions. We singled out Vader's com during the attack."

 _...Let him go... Stay on the leader... I'm on the leader..._ Luke jumped when he heard his father's familiar voice.

_...the Force is strong with this one..._

_...I have you now, Darklighter!_

_Darklighter?_ Luke exclaimed in his head, astonished. Why would his dad—?

... _personal_...

"We added that using a sim application to duplicate Vader's own words. 'Darklighter' is an amalgam from various speeches, nothing too obvious."

So it wasn't personal. His father didn't think ahead to protect their future. Just reacted in the moment and fired, killed two pilots to save his son...

... _personal_...

There was a pause as if they were waiting for Luke to process everything that was being said. For some reason, the Alliance was protecting him..or weren't they? But what about his father? His dad wouldn't talk to him but was paying the Alliance to keep him?

... _It's always personal..._

He couldn't help wondering how much he was worth...to both sides.

... _personal_...

"Did you get his family out?"

"We have a team heading to Tatooine now, hopefully they'll arrive in time."

"How do I fit in?" Boss.

"You're going to monitor him, keep him under control," Narra said flatly. "You've already established a relationship with him. You just need to… up it."

"Up it?" Boss asked, sounding almost angry. "I can't artificially 'up' a relationship with someone who trusts me."

"It's clear," Dodonna proclaimed, "that he's playing both ends against the middle."

What did _that_ mean?

"No, Jovay was, but not Luke. He doesn't… doesn't lie."

Several seconds of astonished silence were broken by a chuckle from Willard. "That boy lies like he breathes. It's natural for him. Not surprising, considering."

Yeah, so what?— _Hey, wait! Is that a slur against my dad?_

"Only for his survival," Boss said defensively. "Think about it. He doesn't lie randomly."

_Maybe it's time I started._

Luke clearly felt a shrug in Narra's voice. "Try to be there for him. He'll need support, especially now that Jovay is gone—"

_Gone? Jovay was gone? Gone where? He’s supposed to take me to my dad..._

_...who evidently doesn't want me anymore since I failed him… no, only his_ _plans_ _, not him...?_

_No. I failed my father who could have been free of Palpatine._

_He could have been free._

"—needs a stabilizing influence. He was very loyal to Jovay. See that he becomes the same to you."

"I don't know if I'm the best—"

That was enough! Luke raced around the building and burst through the door. The gathered group first looked alarmed, then:

"What are you _wearing?"_ Narra's tone was one of disbelief.

Luke refused to be scorned. "You want Oz, you got Oz." He scowled, but his heart was racing with fury and turmoil. "Where's Captain Jovay? Did you kill him?"

"Kill—?" Boss shook his head. "Stars, no, we sent him back to the Empire with the smuggler. We couldn't keep him here and risk him spying for—"

"Then why are you keeping _me?"_

"Are you a spy?" Willard folded his arms.

Luke frowned, crossed his own arms and remained stubbornly silent.

"Outrageous as it sounds," Narra said mildly, "we're protecting you."

_For a price._

"Have you heard the Empire's spin on the destruction?" Dodonna asked, though it didn't sound like a question. "Nearly two million people killed in a Rebel terrorist attack on a mobile bioagricultural research facility."

"A what?" Luke asked, before the entire revelation hit him.

_Two million...? That wasn't... No, it couldn't be. Not that many. He couldn't have... His father wouldn't have sacrificed that many... or would have told him, asked him, warned him..._

_That sound...the screams that followed him...that couldn't have been..._

"Two million people who have family and friends everywhere in the galaxy. If they knew you were responsible for their loss..." Dodonna's smile held an edge of something indescribable. "No one… not even your… relative… no one could save you."

"General," Narra interrupted. "Oz, since Darklighter was killed, we made him the scapegoat."

"Hero," Dodonna corrected.

Luke looked at him coldly. "Did you get Biggs's family out? Heard from your team yet?"

If a moment of silence could be shocked, this was it.

"You may as well include me in your plots," Luke continued evenly. "I'll know them anyway."

Dodonna's fists clenched. "I told you this was a bad idea." This time his anger was directed at Narra. “Blood money!”

"Maybe it was," Luke snapped, "but it's made and done." Oz snatched the blue feathered hat off his head and crossed it over his body, bowing deeply. "Gentlemen, I'll leave you to your conspiracies." He turned to the door and—

Potentially Oz's most outstanding exit, but he'd forgotten something.

"And I want an allowance out of the money my father is sending. Fifty credits a week." He held out one hand.

Narra sighed and looked down at his datapad, then glanced up when Garven Dreis said, "Twenty-five. Per month."

Luke blinked, taken aback. Okay... "Forty, that's the least I'll take."

"Twenty-five," Boss repeated.

He kept his hand out. "Thir—"

"Twenty-five, take it or leave it."

He wouldn't admit defeat aloud, just left his palm open.

Unexpectedly it was Dodonna who dug into his pocket. He crossed the room and placed the credits in Luke's hand, his nails digging in, cutting his flesh. Luke didn't flinch or look away as Dodonna kept staring at him… hurting him again.

"Step back," he ordered softly, the way his father had warned him once when he’d gone too far. Then added in a whisper: "Two million today...what's one more?"

Boss approached them. "Oz, that's enough. Don't threaten when you have no intention of following through."

Luke raised one eyebrow. _Don't I?_ and he didn't need to say it.

"General!" Narra again. "We need to finalize the evacuation schedule."

A single heartbeat, then another before Dodonna released him and turned his back.

Luke let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and left quickly. Why did that man frighten him so? All he could hope was that he'd scared Dodonna away from him.

Unless his threat had the opposite effect. _Think before you speak._ Too late.

 _Now_ it was personal.

**OooOoo**

He didn't want the bar where the pilots and mechs hung out. There was another place, seedier, dirtier, one he'd only heard about. But at least they wouldn't know him there. Not that anyone would recognize him in these clothes, especially if he kept his hat on. He could be alone in plain sight. Get sloppy drunk and forget about everything for a night, not have to think.

It was crowded but he found an open space at the bar. He put down five credits on the silver metal counter. "House ale."

The bartender looked him over and smiled slightly. "Quite an outfit. If you're looking for trade, you've come to the right place."

Luke flushed. He knew what that meant. When he was younger, just starting to hang out in Mos Eisley, that had been a problem for awhile until he'd learned to project a disinterested, unapproachable attitude. "Ale."

The man shrugged, banged a plastisteel mug on the counter and filled it with warm, pale ale. His hand laid over the five credits and remained there. "Fifty."

"What? No way!"

The hand raised barely enough for Luke to see a packet of purple crystals.

_Violet glitt._

Fifty was a good price. Violet was potent. Exhilarating. He'd tried it only once and the memory sent shivers along his spine.

He'd promised his dad—

But his dad wasn't speaking to him, so he wouldn't know. "I… twenty."

"Fifty, including the drink."

Luke shook his head. "No, just..."

A fifty cred chip slid toward the bartender, who took it and released the drink and packet.

Luke turned to the man on the next stool. "You're not buying _me!"_ he warned fiercely.

"No, I'm buying _this_. But I might share."

He didn't answer and wrapped his hand around the ale, sipping slowly. Stars, it tasted awful!

"And I could use some company— _conversation,"_ the man clarified when Luke bristled. "My so-called friends have abandoned me tonight. Can't blame them."

Curiosity overcame his reticence and he studied the other. Human, dark skin, dark hair, disconcertingly light grey eyes. "Why?"

"Dayan. That's my name."

"Oz," Luke replied reluctantly. "So why are your friends avoiding you?"

Dayan shook the Violet pack, then opened it carefully. He sprinkled half the contents into his own drink, then half into Luke's without waiting for permission. Distracted, Luke looked at it and wondered... but his dad would...

_Dad?_

"My father was on the Death Star. Nothing like death to be a conversation killer..." The man tried to laugh, but his breath caught. He took a drink and gasped again as the Violet hit.

"I...what...the Death Star...I...I'm sorry...I didn't know..." Luke struggled to form words around the guilt that burst out, overwhelming him like a sandstorm sweeping through the flatland.

"Why? Not your fault." Dayan focused on him and his face changed. "Oh, krit! Was _your_ father there too?"

 _My father?_ Luke shook his head, horrified. The screams were back, they were everywhere, it was personal—

 _Shut up!_ He took a long swallow of ale and—

And—

And then—

He gasped, involuntarily throwing back his head as the spice hit. His entire body quivered. Crystals stuck to his lips, he could feel them sharp and jagged, and he ran his tongue around them, unable to think, just wanting to grab every bit, every every every _every..._

"Take it easy." Dayan's words slurred. "Been awhile, huh?"

"Y...yeah," Luke managed. "I forgot...how it..."

"Hell yeah."

There was more in the mug. Luke gulped down the rest. Crystals on the bottom. He scooped them out with his fingers, slipped them in his mouth, sucked them off. _"Gods..."_ It coursed through every inch of his body, heating it, shooting all his nerves awake, so good so good...

A hundred creds on the bar. His blood was on fire. Another drink waiting there, another pouch of purple in front of him… another slipped into his vest pocket.

A hand on his thigh… and Dayan was crying inside...

_So am I…_

_Everyone is. Everywhere._

"Are you sure you don't..."

He pushed the hand off—or did he hold it?— struggling to speak. "You...your dad...what did he...d-do?" _Die?_

"Do?" The man paused as if he was having difficulty too. "Worked in...in a kitchen… kitchen! Didn't know damned place was weapon... thought… just thought... station... base. No work at home...need job...Empire has lotsa jobs..."

"I guess." He was coming off the initial shattering impact, now he was… warm… relaxed...he was glowing, hazy… dizzy… so was everything around him. "I...c'n I smoke this?"

"Yah, but why’d you wanna? Best this way. Straight."

Luke nodded carefully, hoping his head wouldn't fall off. He drank from the new mug, pretty in purple, tipped the rest of the packet into his mouth. It burned his teeth, ripped pieces off his tongue… spiraled down through him to his toes. Someone cheered...he was a hero, everyone knew him, everyone loved him… nobody….

... _it's always personal..._

Nobody knew him.

"I put one here, pocket." The man's hand rested there, on his chest… fingers spreading...

"I know." He could hear his heart. Beating loud louder....

"Take this one too." The hand pulled away, then returned with another pat. Another packet. "Save 'em. Don' think you should do a third one t'night."

"Been a long time," Luke agreed. "An' this… really good." He tilted his face toward the other. "Why're… you bein’ so… nice?"

"Aren't people usually nice to you?"

Luke shook his head. "I d-don't k-know." It shouldn't be this hard to speak.

"They should be. You're gorgeous."

He giggled. "...not."

"Yeah, you are." Dayan leaned closer. "I hafta go home...for job, support...family." His breath was hot in Luke's ear, and he didn't like that, tried to squirm away. "We wouldn't see each other again. It'd just be once for… to feel good. An' not be lonely. Sad."

Hand back on his thigh, rubbing gently, and he stared at it. Images appeared...they looked like him, like... Dayan was looking into his eyes and thought he was...thought he was… and his hands… his hands… too many hands….

Luke sighed. He felt good now, but it wouldn't last. Couldn't last, never lasted. Nothing good ever lasted. Feeling good never lasted. Maybe he'd be lonely, but he couldn't tell the difference… being alone or not alone? Without his dad. Even Jovay gone. And Dayan was somebody nice, kind… it seemed natural to tilt his face upward… waiting… wondering…

...but his _dad._ What would his dad think? He didn't know, he honestly didn't know. His dad would be mad about the spice, but was this okay? He didn’t know and that mouth was so close to his...

Was this—

"What in hells are you doing?"

He was yanked off the stool, stumbling backward into someone—

Boss. _Krit._

"Nothin—"

But Boss was ignoring him—except for the firm grip on his arm—and spoke angrily to his new friend.

"He's jailbait even in the Alliance. Don't prey on kids!"

"No, stop!" Luke tried to free himself and failed. "His father… his father died… today… his father..."

"Sorry," Dayan mumbled. "Just lookin' for a little—"

"I know what you're looking for," Boss said icily. "Look elsewhere. Come on."

Luke staggered and struggled to free himself, but nothing worked. Suddenly they were outdoors and it was cold and dark. "C-cold coldy-cold!"

Boss swore under his breath. "Are you high?"

Luke giggled. "Not high enough!" Allowed himself to be dragged… not that it was his choice. Whatever… it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

A door banged and they were somewhere warm. Felt good.

"Hey, Boss—"

"What's—" another voice said.

"What's going on?" Wedge?

"Partying too hard," Boss said grimly, shoving Luke into his bunk and snatching off his hat.

Felt good. Bed soft. Pillow soft. Everything purply.

"A costume party?" someone called. "I wasn't invited."

"Go to sleep," Boss ordered, pulled his door closed… really hard. Loud.

Well, okay, then... Luke closed his eyes. Not that he'd had them open. He felt… good… happy.

Not lonely at all.

Didn’t miss his dad at all.

**OooOoo**

His shoulder hurt. His hand hurt more. His real hand. It woke him up. Why did Dodonna have to hurt his real one? He had a perfectly expensive military hand that wouldn't have hurt at all. He sat up and tried to see his hand, but it was dark. He had to pee.

The room was dark. People were snoring. He didn't want to wake them up so he went outside. It was a long walk to get there because his feet were crooked. When had that happened?

He peed in the dirt next to the door. There were a lot of people in the distance. Things were coming apart… no, things were being _taken_ apart. They were evacuating. He needed to go to that Exar Kun place, where his dad said Jedi were trained. He needed to go there before they left. It was important. His dad wouldn't teach him anymore. He needed to—

"Get back inside."

He blinked and looked at Boss who was wearing... "Are those jammies?" Then he covered his mouth. "Oops! Do you know you're wearing underwear? Outside!"

"Be quiet or you'll wake the others." Boss steered him back toward his bed.

"I know. That's why I peed outside."

"Ssh. I know. Now you can go back to bed."

"Boss!" _So funny!_ "Jailbait...'member? Whassat?"

"It means you're not twenty-one yet. Only eighteen. Now go to—"

"Sixteen." Boss was wrong! Never wrong 'til now. 'Bout anything.

"What?"

He yawned.

"You need to sleep."

Luke frowned. "Hand hurts."

The older man sighed. "What did you do to it?"

Luke held out his real hand. "Not me. Dodonna. He hates me. It's always personal…."

His hand was taken palm up and studied. "You should've cleaned these. I'll get something for them."

"These them what?" Luke looked at his hand. It was dark except for his little bed-light, but he could see red marks.

Boss was back in a few seconds, wiped a wet cloth on his hurts, then something that felt good spread across the marks.

"Try not to antagonize him."

That sounded familiar. "Yeah...I should be more...circumspect. He gets mad easy. Like my dad."

He was pushed back on the pillow and a blanket tugged into place over him. "Go to sleep."

"I have my boots on," Luke observed.

"That's all right. Sleep now."

His dad said that once. Luke smiled and closed his eyes, then opened them again.

"Two million?" he asked clearly, trying to focus on Boss's face.

There was a hesitation, then: "Yes."

Luke squeezed his eyes shut. "Tha’s why people are crying," he whispered. "People crying everywhere."

_It's personal..._


	8. On the Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Alliance moves its base while Luke deals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN 48

"Get up! Pack your stuff! We're leaving in an hour. And take a damn shower!"

Whoever jolted him awake with the shouting vanished, leaving no one else to blame for his suddenly throbbing headache. Oh... they were moving the base. He vaguely remembered that.

Feeling dizzy, he sat up and held onto the edge of the bed until the spinning room slowed to a sluggish spiral. With a heavy sigh, he dragged his jumpsuit from a peg on the wall and staggered to the shower. Everyone was gone. Probably at the canteen for breakfast— the thought of which turned his stomach even more.

The cold water made him feel only marginally better. Helped his head, but his mouth felt like...blech. "Don' think about it," Luke muttered. He stumbled back to his bunk and sat motionless for a few minutes, then checked his bag and pulled out the old cloak. That could go on top in case he was cold. He shoved in his wonderful Tatooine clothes that smelled of smoke and drink—but paused and grabbed the green brocade vest. There was...oh, yeah. Two packets of Violet in the breast pocket. Krit. He should throw them out...

He grabbed one boot and pulled open the inside pocket. The glitt fit, but... his datachip wasn't there. He'd forgotten his datachip! He had to have that, especially since they were going to erase Skywalker. He needed something to remember, to show people, just in case he was… erased.

Another horrifying thought struck and he fumbled in the satchel and around his bunk. Well, okay, there was his dad's poster; he tucked that safely at the bottom of the bag. But where—

"Boss! Boss!" He leaped up and almost fell. Stars, he was still high.

Dreis was in the rec area pulling down the last of the pilots' belongings that draped over chairs and hooks. "What?" He didn't sound any too friendly.

Luke walked over gingerly, wall-surfing, using one hand against the wood for balance. "My chip...my lightsaber. I don't have them. I _have_ to have them!"

"I'm sure Command has them. Now will you pack?"

Boss used to be nicer. Was it just because of the spice? Or because he knew who Luke really was? "I'm sorry...."

"Just finish!"

Luke flinched but obeyed. Educational datatapes... all that was left from his dad. Except the lightsaber. His bedding didn't fit in his bag, so he rolled up everything and stuffed it into one of the boxes outside the door. Took a last look around. Without people, the room was so cold. He shivered.

"I'm ready."

"Then check in at the transport! Do I have to tell you everything?" Boss stopped and shook his head. "Sorry. I'm just... You frustrate the hell out of me."

"Yeah, that's what Oz does," Luke snapped, not sure if it was defiance or desperation in his tone. Tightening his grip on the bag, he left just as Wedge was coming in for a final check. Luke nodded at him, not trusting his voice.

His precious bag checked into the transport, Luke hesitated. No time to eat, but… his lightsaber… what if they'd forgotten it? He pushed through the lines and raced to the Command Center, the last place he'd seen it. Why would anyone pack it, they didn't care, they didn't realize what it meant to him.

The CC was a mess. Scavengers would have a great time going through all this junk. Broken monitors, equipment that had been deliberately smashed to be left behind, piles of worthless flimsi— He scrambled through it all, crawling under tables, just to be sure—

And there it was! Part of it anyway. "I _knew_ they didn't remember." He clutched the hilt to his chest and kept searching until he found the rest, frantically checking to be sure all the pieces were there— emitter matrix, power source, insulator— found the power cap that had rolled away— thank the Force he hadn't removed anything other than the Death Star plans because he couldn't have assembled this from scratch.

"OZ! OZ!"

Why was he always in trouble! "COMING!" Luke shouted, barely managing to corral the parts in his hands, hugging them to him.

Outside most of the transports were away, only a few left. Boss was standing with hands on his hips. "Where—"

"I found my lightsaber! They didn't pack it," Luke panted. "D'you think they have my—"

"If they don't, it's too late. We need to get into hyperspace before the Imperial fleet shows up."

"They're coming?" Was his father with them? Luke hesitated, but Boss shoved him toward the ramp. "Okay, okay."

Once onboard, he found his pack and managed to squeeze the lightsaber parts into it before finding a seat and buckling in. His spurt of energy gave out and he sighed, exhausted, still dizzy, and feeling none too well. Maybe they'd have food….

He fell asleep leaning against a stranger's shoulder.

**OooOoo**

"Get off me!"

Well, _that_ was a short nap. Luke sighed and straightened. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Finally bothering to look around, he realized he was in the central compartment. It was busy with people walking and talking and—Force preserve us— eating! There was all of Red Squad, including the three ‘new’ guys who’d switched shifts, nice they'd been given some time to unwind, and he walked— okay, staggered a little— to join them at a big table in the corner. "Hey."

A few grunts of "Oz" greeted him.

"I can't remember the last time I ate." He hoped for a little sympathy, but all he got was a dish of reconstituted vegetables shoved his way. And a package of milk. "Gee, thanks."

Across the table, Wedge winked. Good to know that he still had some friends here in spite of… well, everything. Wincing a little from the pain in his shoulder as he pulled the dish to him, he slipped his left hand under the table to take a surreptitious look at Dodonna’s marks left by his nails. Didn't look too bad, nothing anyone would comment on. He tilted the milk carton to his mouth and guzzled it.

"For my last one, I had sex," Zev Senesca said.

Luke spit out the milk and had to wipe it from his chin. "What?"

"Congratulations. First time?" Hobbie-Somebody's eyes sparkled though his face remained solemn.

"Jealous?"

"Lucky!" Wes Janson wadded up a napkin and threw it at him. "I got socks."

"I got a hat," Wedge said. "I don't even wear hats. What about you, Oz?"

He was caught off guard, stuffing mashed… whatever it was… into his mouth. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but you're bizarre."

"The boys are talking about what they got for their last birthdays," Boss said with an indulgent smile, "and what they want for their next one."

"I want a varactyl," Porkins declared.

"I want a cake," Luke said. "Just a cake."

"Sounds good. What did you get for your last one?"

He stifled a sigh. Boss was going to find ways to eke out information no matter what the topic. Luke waved his fork in the air. "New hand. Pass the plate of whatever that brown stuff is."

The unnamed dish began its travel along the table toward him. "That's creepy." Zev pretended to shudder. "What happened to your old one?"

"Accident," Luke replied blandly. "Like they say, Sith happens." He laughed at the joke that was his alone. Or not.

"Still creepy." Zev stared at him. "Are you sober?"

Krit. Awkward silence was not his preferred mode. "Yeah," he said shortly.

"Good. Because we'll need a sober mechanic when we make base. Not somebody strung out."

Luke ate another bite of the brown...whatever. "Sorry 'bout that," he mumbled. He felt Boss's eyes on him, but the older man said nothing.

"It's happened to all of us," Porkins said.

"Some more than others," Wes Janson observed brightly, sending a significant look toward Hobbie.

Porkins ignored the interruption. "Look...sorry about your friend. None of us knew Darklighter very well— we didn't have time— but you... how long had you known him?''

For a split second, he went blank, picturing Biggs in Anchorhead where he should be, dusty and wind-blown, not blown into space dust and scattered blindly into the void. It hit him like a rock and he dropped his fork, elbows on the table, hands over his face in a desperate attempt to stop or at least shield the tears that took him by surprise.

"Ah Force!" Porkins exclaimed. "I'm sorry."

Luke shook his head but didn't look up. "No, it's...all right. I've known… knew him all my life. Since we were kids. He was a really good person. And a good friend." _Better than I deserved,_ he realized. "A better friend to me than I was to him."

"Awkward," Janson murmured.

Boss raised his glass. "To Biggs Darklighter, hero and destroyer of the Death Star," he added, just in case Luke had forgotten.

He raised his milk carton, tears blinked back, and said good-bye to the friend who deserved the label of "hero" much more than he did. "To Biggs."

And to thinking about him later. Much later.

**OooOoo**

"Does anyone know where we're going?"

"I hope so," Wedge replied to Hobbie. "Otherwise it will be a short trip when we come out of hyper."

"It starts with a 'Y', that's all I remember… well, all I overheard." Hobbie grinned. "Hey, Boss!" he called, "Your minions need you here!"

They laughed, and Luke felt relief that he was still accepted as part of their team. He wouldn't be if they knew everything… still, Boss knew… and he wasn't sure how much Wedge had figured out.

Boss left the group of Command staff who were settled around the giant viewport, sipping caf. "We're going to Yavin. I'm sure you've all heard of Yavin."

There was a silence that Luke felt compelled to fill.

"Yavin Prime is a red gas giant, so we're obviously not setting up base there, can't get through the atmosphere anyway," he began, closing his eyes to recall the datatape better. "However, it's orbited by twenty-six moons, three of which are habitable, numbered four, eight and thirteen. Eight is icy and cold, so we probably won't go there, sounds awful. Thirteen is hot and dry and inhabited by two non-human species, so I'm guessing... maybe not. Moon four is uninhabited, no natives to put at risk by our presence, mostly covered with jungle, so it's a great place for hiding. There's also a huge pyramid, an ancient temple, we could probably fit a couple hangars in there... and the climate is temperate. So we're likely going to there. It's identified as Yavin Four."

Continued silence. Luke opened his eyes to see everyone staring at him, including some of the Command members who had moved closer. "What?" he snapped defensively. "You think I listen to all those datatapes for fun? No point in studying if I don't remember stuff."

The quiet lasted another few moments until Janson said, "Yeah, he's sober," and the other pilots chuckled as Command moved away.

"Very good," Boss said.

Luke felt his cheeks heat. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Aw shucks," Janson teased. "Hey, before you get a big head, can I borrow some of your clothes? The stuff you were wearing last night was fab-u-lous! I never see anything in the commissary like that. Where'd you get it?"

"Tatooine." He was glad for a change of subject. "People throw all sorts of things in the trash."

"Trash!" Porkins was horrified. "You wear garbage?"

"It's been washed." Luke wrinkled his nose. "Well...I had to wear it dirty at first, but..."

"People on Tatooine must be rich if they throw away something like that coat."

"And the hat," Janson added. "The hat is so _me!"_

Luke snorted. "Gamblers, they win and lose and just toss stuff when they leave. Food, great food— all types of clothes—" A sudden memory struck him and he squinted as if, for just a moment, he could actually _see_ the memory. "— and people… they even throw dead people out with the garbage."

Great. He had decimated that stimulating intercourse just when it was getting started. "Only once," he added quickly. "I only saw that happen once." He couldn’t remember who it was or what it looked like, but…. He shook his head to empty his brain.

"You, my friend," Zev murmured, "have had a somewhat odd life."

 _And you don't know the half of it!_ "Isn't there any dessert," he complained. "I need something sweet."

"I'm right here, honeybun," Janson made a kissy face.

"Kritpeth," Luke grumbled. "Why don't you take a nap?" He looked at Boss. "Are we there yet? This is a really really really long trip."

"Longest flight I've ever been on," Garven answered, but his expression was pleased. "We're multi-jumping, lessens the possibility of being tracked. Oz, let's talk privately." He jerked his head to the left, indicating a doorway.

"Oh-oh." Porkins sent him a sad look. "Nice knowing you."

Janson flapped his hand like it was a handkerchief. "Can I have your clothes if you don't come back?"

"Oh, stop!" Wedge said, laughing. "Boss won't hurt him— we _need_ a mechanic!"

**OooOoo**

"I wondered how long you would wait until—"

"Sit." Boss pointed to a chair in the small conference room. "You're going to answer some questions. And I would appreciate honesty."

"Me too." Luke slouched in an Oz position. "Shall I assume that everything I say will go straight back to Command?"

A frown creased his forehead as Garven seated himself across the table. "You should probably assume it since I'll be the one deciding what I do or do not tell them."

"Huh. So… shoot."

"What went on last night?"

"Whatever."

Boss folded his hands on the table. "Don't take that attitude with me. I know it's a pretense, because pretense is all you know...you build walls in front of walls. You think you're safe, that they make it impossible for people to hurt you… and now you can't get out. You've imprisoned yourself."

"Oh, great, you're a psych cop!" Luke snapped uncomfortably, tilting his chair to balance preciously on its back legs. "You wanted Oz, you got him. Quit whining about it."

"You're wrong. I want _you."_

"No, you don't." The chair dropped back down and he leaned his elbow on the table, chin in his hand, feeling his pulse beating too fast behind his ear. "You _really_ don't want me."

"If you even know who that is any longer." Boss's fingers tightened but otherwise he remained still. "What did you take last night?"

Luke considered, feeling an exhilarating combination of shame and pride and confusion. "Violet," he said and had the satisfaction of seeing Boss wince and shift in his seat.

"Do you know how _strong_ that is?"

"Well, yeah, I took it."

The commander shook his head. "That could've killed you. How much did you take?"

"I dunno...a couple packs, maybe less, not sure. And it couldn't have killed me. Spice can't hurt a Force user." That wasn't exactly what his dad had said but close enough. Although… he seemed to be feeling his feelings a lot more than usual today.

Boss's eyes narrowed. "Buying that must have used up all your 'allowance'."

Luke laughed. "You _really_ don't know what good glitt costs! Don't be ridiculous, I couldn't pay for it."

"Mmm." Boss's face was neutral. "So you were whoring yourself for a high?"

Luke inhaled sharply and jumped up, outraged and humiliated. "How _dare_ you? I didn't do anything— I've never— What are you—"

"You might have," the other replied, "if I hadn't interrupted. Sit down."

Well... fair point. Luke sat and shifted uncomfortably in the seat. Imagine if his dad found out... "He was nice. Sad. His father was killed on the Death Star."

"And I've got a great planet to sell you cheap."

He gave the sarcasm a moment to settle, reflecting back on the prior night. "He was… telling the truth. I felt it."

One dark gray eyebrow raised. "Hmm. Have you stashed any glitterstim here?"

Kritpeth. Luke steepled his fingers and didn't answer.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. If I find it, you're off Red Squad."

 _Hells!_ "I...you can't get rid of me that easily! You have to _keep_ me!"

"We can _keep_ you in the brig." Dreis leaned back. "You said at your hearing that you hadn't used spice since you joined us. True?" He waited for Luke's assenting shrug before continuing. "So what changed? Why did you start... presumably... again?"

"You're kidding, right?" He threw his hands in the air. "It was a special occasion. Let's see… you all put me in prison, exposed my entire life, shoved me in a fighter, had me murder two million people, Biggs is dead, Jovay reamed me out, my dad won't talk to me, and I can't even have my real name anymore! How many more reasons do you want?"

The officer had the grace to look down for a moment. For the first time, Luke wondered if Boss was an interrogator, and the idea made him uneasy. Possibly he wasn't smart enough to evade a professional interrogator

Although being Dad Vader's son had provided good on-the-job experience.

Still… he'd never been terribly successful at the _think before you speak_ lesson.

"We didn't expose your life, just your lies. Though I don't doubt they are endless."

"You told them I only lied to protect myself," he said quietly and was rewarded by a flush on Boss's face.

"That's what I believe." Dreis frowned momentarily but recovered quickly. "So… Vader's son, but you were raised on Tatooine?"

"You know that's where he's from. You know who he is. Why are you trying to pretend you don't?"

Boss slammed a fist on the table. "Give me honest answers!"

"Then give me honest questions!" Luke looked around the room. "Where's the recording device… monitor… whatever? Or are they talking in your ear, telling you—"

"No!" Finally the man was flustered. "There are no recording devices, this is—"

"Oh, please! Do you believe that?" Luke stood. "Talk to me another time. Maybe at the base. Maybe outdoors. Maybe naked so I can see you're not recording."

He stomped toward the door, and Boss made no move to stop him, but did say quietly:

"This isn't over. And I'm not your enemy."

"Coulda fooled me," he hissed and left.


	9. Introspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke does some thinking and maybe makes some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to FFN 49

He didn't want to rejoin the squad yet. The confrontation with Boss had been exhausting. He needed time and space to recover. And as far as he was concerned, sometimes a little socializing went a long way. There was a small viewport with just enough room to wedge himself into the corner on the floor if he tucked his legs close.

Yesterday and today— krit, the beginning of a very bad week... or with luck it was the end of a bad week. Dad, Jovay, Boss… everybody was down on him. It wasn't fair. Okay, he understood his father being mad that his son had basically destroyed his future. And Boss… well, in retrospect last night must have been embarrassing for him. Not for Luke, because he'd been high and had gotten himself out of worse fixes on Tatooine. Although... he really didn't want to think about what had almost happened… because, thinking about it… well, it didn't seem like the worst idea in the universe. Unless his dad found out, because he figured Vader would have an unreasonable reaction to his son's less than stellar behavior.

Jovay’s outburst... that had been unexpected. Like a dam breaking and flooding a valley— he’d seen news vids of people killed and homes vanished in an instant. How many years had Karas held back those resentments? Force! He hoped the officer hadn't spoken to his father that way or Luke would never see him again. The thought occurred to him that Jovay might worry that Luke would repeat the accusations to his dad. Surely he knew there was no chance Luke would snitch on him after all they'd been through together. Besides, his father had told him to never waste an asset needlessly, so there was no possibility of that happening.

Lately it seemed like a lot of his father's instructions were actually useful. He hoped he'd remember more of them. Had he paid enough attention when he'd had the chance? Or had he squandered his opportunities… what if he never got to hear any more advice? What if all he knew now from his dad were the only things he would _ever_ know? What if he forgot something? What if he never was able to ask his dad anything else? What if….

_Think about something else._

Anyway, Jovay was wrong. He was right, too, but when faced with the choice of saving friends and family or saving the vagueness of a galaxy, Luke suspected that most people would choose the first, especially without time to consider the consequences. But nothing ever would make him sacrifice his father—

Even as he thought about it, the memory of his dad's desperation swept across him. He'd known his father's plans, his hopes, his dreams— and brushed them aside like they were meaningless to save the Alliance base.

And killed two million people while he was at it.

Luke rested the side of his face against his knees. That had been a lose/lose scenario no matter which choice he had made. And now there were people crying everywhere, millions and millions of them… some in their own transports. They would always be there in the back of his mind, an echo of endless losses whispering and damning him without words. Maybe there was a Force way to turn them off, but he shouldn't learn… even if his dad decided to teach him again. All those tears should stay with him so he'd remember forever. So he'd be prepared to make a choice next time and anticipate the consequences. Because, as experience had taught him, there was always a next time.

His dad had said that, too.

_Think about something else._

A voice intruded— a _real_ voice outside his head— and he curled himself tighter, willing himself invisible or at least projecting do-not-disturb. It worked, and whoever it was left him alone. Sorry, he might have said but didn't because he wasn't sorry, he was thinking.

So… Mad Dad, Bad Dad, Sad Dad. His heart was breaking, and he knew his dad's heart was breaking too. Or broken, maybe had been so badly broken in the past that it couldn't break again. Boss said he'd turned his own protective barriers into a prison… maybe that's what had happened to his father too. Maybe it was The Curse of the Vaders… which would be a great title for a holofilm.

_Stars,_ he pretended his dad said in his head, _where do you get these ideas, my son?_

_Oh, Dad…._ Luke's sigh turned into a tremor that racked his body, and he tightened his grip around his knees. How do you break out of a prison of your own making? Seemed like it should be simple. But a real prison had bars that you could see and guards and blasters. But a prison in your head— did it have limits? Could you take one mental step after another and eventually be free of it?

Not that he knew what a 'mental step' was. Although….

He slid open the fold inside his boot and pulled out the packets of spice. This was a real act, not a mental step… or was it? For just a second, he considered that Boss might be pleased and proud of him, thinking that his scolding had worked and Oz had had an epiphany— he’d learned that word from his dad— But that wasn't the reason… or was it? Why was everything always so complicated? Why couldn't things be clear instead of cloudy? If his dad were here, he could just ask. It seemed like forever since they'd talked but it was only… two days ago… no, yesterday? How long had they been in hyperspace? His dad could explain about time and space if only—

_Think about something else._

He squeezed his hand around the glitt. This wasn't an easy choice. Last night had been sort of… enjoyable, and today he felt more awake than usual. He could hear and see better— and feel, he felt so much and so little, both at the same time, almost like he was standing back and watching himself feel. Was it the drug? Would he be like this if he just had a few crystals at a time? Would he not get hooked, just be aware? Did glitt break down his Force inhibitions too? His dad said it would have the opposite effect.

And his dad warned him that spice use was a problem psychologically if not physically, and he already had enough problems with that, trying to shake the identity of Son of Vader (whom he was) while hanging onto Oz (whom he wasn't), which he was stuck with for awhile unless he could figure out a way to be Luke Skywalker (whom he also was). Which didn't seem likely. Somehow he had to merge Skywalker and Son of Vader, and he realized that hadn't occurred to him before. Of course! It was so obvious. So… hmm.

Still… he put one packet back in his boot. Just in case. Backup. Everyone should have a wingman.

His dad had been his wingman, letting him fly while protecting—

_Think about something else._

Biggs— Biggs, his other wingman (or rather, according to the Alliance's altered storyline, _he_ had been Biggs's wingman) but he couldn't think about him, just couldn't, which was strange. Was it because Biggs had been his last link to Tatooine? Why would he care about that? Anyway, Biggs wasn't his last link. He'd met Jovay there and… and his father.

His father, still stuck in the prison that he wore, both on his body and in his mind. Stuck there forever. If Luke hadn't shown up, his father would have never attempted his plan for freedom and gotten his hopes up, because his son had turned out to be his only hope.

His only hopeless son. Ruined everything.

_Confused you are._

Yeah... wait... who said that? He wished it was his dad, but it didn't sound like him and he didn't seriously think Darth Vader would disguise his voice, so it must have been his own wandering, messed up brain. _Dad…._

There had to be a way out, a way to free his father and rid the galaxy of his tormentor. Unless his tormentor wasn't Palpatine. If his dad was his own tormentor then no one could help. "Except me," Luke whispered. But he couldn't do anything until his dad relented and reinstated their link. Don't contact me, his father had said and he'd tried anyway, a few times, before giving up and deciding to respect the order. Because maybe that's what his father wanted, just a show of obedience before he reinstated contact.

_Never rely on the futility of wishes. They are merely dreams we create when reality is difficult and we are weak._ That lesson was a memory, not his actual dad talking in his actual head. Oh, how he missed—

_Wait._ His dad had said something… something about only providing guidance while allowing him to explore and find his true self. That wasn't quite correct, but it made him wonder if that was what his father was doing now. Setting him free to find himself? If that was the idea, it was a pretty cruel way to go about it. Even Darth Vader wouldn't be that mean.

So unless he had a suddenly exquisitely beautifully perfectly brilliant idea, there was nothing to do but wait. Patience had never been his strongest virtue— if, indeed, he had any virtues— but he had to practice. For his father's sake. And if—

"Go buckle in. We're coming out of hyperspace in a few minutes."

He hadn't heard Boss approach! This was much more deep thinking than Oz should do if he wanted to keep safe from people sneaking up on him.

Except he wasn't Oz. They could call him anything they wanted, but he was Luke Skywalker-Vader and he always would be.

It wasn't such a bad name after all.

Luke unwound his legs and stood, his right fist clenched. He considered it for a moment, then studied Boss's expression. It was completely neutral, his eyes blank.

Luke opened his fingers to expose the bag of sparkling purple spice. He lifted it toward Garven, held his eyes and gave a little shrug. "It's a start," he whispered.

The bigger hand opened, palm up, and Luke dropped the packet into it. Boss held his gaze.

"Is that all of it?"

Krit krit krit! He blinked and glanced away.

"Give me the rest."

"No."

"All right," Boss said surprisingly, "but what I said earlier still goes. When I find it, you're out of the squad."

"No!" Luke struggled for an answer. "I just need… to keep some until I figure out… it does something to the Force, to what I feel… and it might be better. Or stronger. Or worse. I can't tell yet."

Dreis sighed. "Give it to me. I'll hold onto it for awhile."

Luke's lips parted as he searched for a win. "What if you get caught with it? You'd be in trouble and I wouldn't want that responsibility."

Boss actually laughed and shook his head. "I don't know where you come up with these ideas," he said, sounding like Dad, "but that won't work. Give it over."

Gods. This was like arguing with Vader. With just about the same amount of non-success. "Fine!" He bent, pulled the bag out of his boot, and slapped it in the outstretched hand. "There! Happy now?"

Boss met his eyes for a moment longer before nodding. "Go join your squad."

Luke bit his lip and held back the grin that was struggling to be free. "Yessir! Thank you!" He paused. "And despite what you believe… I _do_ know who I am." _I think. Kinda sure anyway, Mr. Luke Skywalker-Vader._

This wasn't quite the outcome he'd wanted...but how hard could it be to sneak a bag of stuff back if he really needed it? Piece of cake. Birthday cake.

**OooOoo**

"You're alive!" Porkins crowed.

"Damn, I wanted those clothes."

He smiled at the irrepressible Janson, deciding he liked this guy. "You can have them."

"You serious?"

"Yeah." Those clothes belonged to Oz. He might miss them… or _him_ … but…. "I just have to go through the pockets to remove my millions in credits, then they're all yours. And I expect to see you wearing them."

"Great!" Janson looked at him slyly. "Then maybe someone will call _me_ gorgeous."

"W-what?" Luke stuttered, accompanied by the sounds of laughter from the others. _"Boss!"_ he accused.

"It wasn't me." Their squad leader spread his hands.

"C'mon," Hobbie said, "you know it's Gossip Central around here. Haven't you noticed people looking at you?"

Luke groaned and laid his head on the table.

"Aww." Janson put an arm around his shoulder. "Daddy, our Baby Oz is growing up. He's almost an adult."

"Very almost."

"Barely almost," someone else murmured.

"How'd you fall for it?" Porkins asked. "Just out of curiosity… in case I'm ever in the same position."

Luke raised his head and sighed, struggling to see the humor because they weren't judging him, just teasing. Amazing. "Well...he _did_ say I was gorgeous and since none of _you guys_ ever say that—"

"Buckle in," Boss said, sounding like he'd repeated that a few times. "We're about to—"

And the lights blurred, then steadied, and the huge form of Yavin came into view in the distance.

"That's a big sucker," Hobbie said with admiration, and for some reason they all found it hilarious. The trip had been so long, so tiring—

"Where are we going?" Luke asked uneasily, his voice barely audible above the laughter. Something wasn't right… no, not exactly, more like there was a potential for something wrong.

"You're the one who said we're going to Four," Wedge said quietly. "That must be it coming on the screen now. Valiant's going in first."

"No. I mean, yes, but—" He saw the first transport line up. "No. We can’t land there, not there! Boss!"

He stood and… there were images of… nothing. No patterns, no thoughts… yet there was _something._ He wasn't sure how he got from the pilots' table to Command so quickly, but he was there and his nemesis Dodonna was staring at him.

"What do you want?"

"We have to stop!" They weren't going to listen to him and why should they? Luke closed his eyes, trying to focus, conscious that his hands were reaching, palms out as if he could touch whatever it was. "It's… I don't know…" Blurs became pictures though they didn't make sense. Words whispered, but he didn't understand them. Not quite, but….

_Clear your mind. Focus._

"It's… sacred land." He opened his eyes, staring at nothing. "Sacred land…. We can’t be there. Stop them."

"Young man—"

"Stop. Please."

Hesitation. Looks exchanged.

"Stop," Luke repeated in a whisper that sounded like thunder in his ears. "We can't be there. We'll disturb them."

"Valiant One, break off and regroup. All transports stand by."

Luke blinked, astonished that Dodonna had actually listened to him.

"What do you see?" the general asked.

He looked at the man who didn't seem so scary now. "I don't know exactly. There's… not life, but… memories… that don't want us here. We should go to the other side. Not here. We'll never have… peace… here." He bit his lip, unnerved by the silence in the huge room. He shrugged, helpless to explain further.

Miraculously, Dodonna inclined his head. "Lieutenant, program in new coordinates to the opposite side of the moon and convey to all transports." His eyes flicked across Luke's face. "Thank you," he said, and Luke wondered how much those words had cost.

Luke hesitated. Might as well get it over with. "General… I apologize for what I said to you... uh, yesterday. It was inappropriate and the… the threat was not something I would ever… uh, do," he finished awkwardly.

Dodonna's expression didn't change, but Luke could feel his mild surprise. "Apology accepted. Now get back to your squad."

Probably now was not the time to ask for his identification chip. He returned to Red Squad and sat, conscious of the stares and the extended silence.

"So," Zev Senesca said slowly, "you're a Force Sensitive." It wasn't a question.

Luke shrugged. "I guess. Maybe. Sort of. Yeah."

"Phew, that's a relief," Janson murmured. "I thought there was something _serious_ wrong with you."

"Thanks." Luke frowned at him.

"Huh. I had a friend like you once. Made a lot of money following his advice on the races." Zev gave him a half-smile. "Lost it again not following his advice."

"What happened to him?" Luke asked softly, worried that any Force user's tragic end would be his too.

"Got rich and moved to Cantonica," Zev said disgustedly. "Probably still there. And here I am."

That earned a round of chuckles, and Luke shot Zev an appreciative glance and saw Boss do the same.

_I have friends, Dad,_ Luke said in his head but didn't send the thought. _Real people who like me just as I am..._ That hardly seemed possible, but apparently there it was and he wasn't about to argue.

_Thanks, Dad._

Luke smiled and joined the others as they began to gather up their gear for landing.


	10. Sticky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke settles in with the squad, but he can’t help being sneaky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN 50

The thing he hadn't realized about jungles was that they were wet. Not jumping in a pool of water wet, but… sticky. He felt sticky all the time and didn't like it, not one bit. The only thing that helped was, ironically, a water shower, and that comfort only lasted as long as he stood under the stream. As soon as he dried off, he was sticky again. Tatooine had never seemed so appealing… the suns, the heat, even the sand. It was with a little sadness that he remembered brushing sand off Fixer's 'hopper model when his dad gave it back to him. Maybe grains of sand were still there, dusting the pristine floors of the Devastator.

Sitting in the cockpit of Hobbie's x-wing, Luke sighed and called a spanner to him and began to drill a new hole in the duraplast to replace a sensor. Red Squad fighters had taken a beating during the Death Star attack, and he was grateful that Boss had conscripted a mech from Gold to help with the scut work. Said mech was across the hangar under the belly of a snub, which was good because he was too chatty for Luke's taste. There was too much to get done and he didn't have time—

_Impatient you are._

Luke sent an impression of disgust into the Force.

_Go away, whoever you are. I'm not interested._

_Say you that so quickly when you know not Who. . . . ._

_Unless you can fix this sensor, go away_. The voice had been becoming more annoying and persistent over the last day. Luke paused in his work and clenched the spanner tightly. _Who are you?_

_Know you this already if listening you had been._

Luke shook his head. "Go away," he said aloud.

For a second he hoped the order had worked, but noooo….

_Yoda, I am._

"Big whoop. I don't know you."

_Your father, spoke of me he did._

_What? No, he didn't— Oh, wait just a second. Were you eavesdropping?! Are you the—_

_Jedi Master, yes. Been helping you I have._

_I don't need your help! And— and anyway, you’re a lousy helper!_

The loud/silent disapproval was giving him a headache. _Look, Mister Yoda, I know you were never nice to my dad. No matter what he says, you're not coming anywhere near me so get out of my head._ "Out!"

"Does the spanner work better when you talk to it?"

He looked down at Hobbie. "As a matter of fact, yes. If you're looking to take it for a ride, it won't be ready for an hour or so."

"Nah. Any riding to be done, Gold can do it. They haven't done anything since transport guard duty, lazy nerfs." The pilot stared up at him. "Wanna grab lunch?"

"Stars, is it that time already? Yeah." He hesitated. "But I have to stop by CC first, don't know how long it will take."

"Be a major suck-up and it won't take as long, whatever you want from them."

Luke wasn't sure if he could suck up well enough to gain the favor he wanted. "I'll try. Catch you later."

He climbed down the ladder and waved to the other mech, then walked quickly away so the mech— whose name he couldn't remember— didn't take that as an invitation to join him.

Command was fitted neatly into a tiny makeshift office at the rear of the hangar. Cautiously, Luke cracked open the door. Gods, it was air conditioned! Commander Narra was there, good thing, but so was Security Chief Nikran. He sighed when Nikran glared at him.

"In or out, make up your mind. What do you want?"

"Commander Narra. Sir, may I speak with you?" Luke asked politely because, oddly enough, this civility stuff was working out well for him. Probably because no one expected it. There was something to be said for lowering people's expectations and then reversing course.

"Chief, there's an incoming supplies shipment. Check it out— and the crew."

"Very well." Nikran strode past him, deliberately bumping his shoulder and shooting him a suspicious look. Luke rolled his eyes.

"What can I do for you, Oz?"

 _For one thing, you could stop calling me 'Oz'._ "I'd like my chip back, sir. The blood test results."

The commander studied him. "Why?"

"Why?!" Luke blurted, then caught himself. "Because it's _mine—_ _my_ chip and _my_ identity."

Narra leaned back in his chair.

He barely refrained from tapping his foot impatiently. "If you're erasing Luke Skywalker, I'll want that chip for… for proof. Unless… you haven't _destroyed_ it, have you?"

Narra shook his head. He stood and walked to an old-fashioned safe, punching in the security code— which Luke memorized quickly although they probably changed it every day— and brought out the small chip. He handed it to Luke.

"Thank you, sir." Yeah, it looked like his, but he'd check it later in his datapad to be sure. They had probably made copies anyway. He cleared his throat.

"Is there something else?"

"Well, yeah… yes, sir." This was the challenge. "I'd like to contact Captain Jovay."

Commander Narra returned to his chair, sat and leaned his arms on the desk, delaying tactics that Luke recognized. "You're asking the Alliance to initiate a contact with an Imperial Intelligence officer for someone who's potentially a security risk?"

That was a little confusing. "You mean _me?"_ Narra gave him a Dad look. "I'm not going to tell him anything, I just… I need some personal questions answered. And… you know… stuff. Personal stuff." _Like about my dad!_ he wanted to scream, but figured that would be a bad idea. "He's my friend. Remember, he was coming to see me when you _arrested_ him." He sniffed disparagingly.

Narra pressed his palms against his forehead. "You want to talk to your friend who is an agent of the enemy?"

 _Didn't I say that?_ "Yes."

Then came the biggest sigh he'd ever heard from the man. "I'll discuss it with Command and get back to you."

"Great! Today?" Oops, that didn't go over well. "I mean, thank you, sir. I appreciate your consideration of my request."

Narra raised one eyebrow— Luke seemed to get a lot of those lately— and gestured toward the door.

"Right… thanks!"

That hadn't been so bad. He wondered if he'd done the appropriate amount of sucking up to succeed.

**OooOoo**

The pilots were playing a quiet, civilized (not) game of sabacc. Luke put the audiobuds in his ears but didn't switch on the datatape, knowing he would be interrupted immediately by one of them.

This time it was Porkins. "What're you studying now?"

"Hyperbolic geometry as it relates to the third dimension."

Janson and Hobbie turned from the game. Zev… damned if he didn't raise an eyebrow.

"Kidding," Luke said, pausing. "Actually, it's high-energy particle physics."

"Is there such a thing?" Porkins asked. "I can't tell if he's serious."

"He's kidding," Janson said, but his tone was uncertain.

Luke nodded. "Kidding. Actually, it's _Guidelines of Royal Protocol at the Imperial Palace."_

"Right." They turned back to their game. "Let us know when you're granted an audience," Zev added.

Hah! He was beginning to understand how to throw them off track. After listening for an excruciatingly boring five minutes about the proper length of time and depth of bows and curtsies depending on the room and the occasion, he was grateful to turn it off when Boss entered.

His gratitude turned to disappointment when Garven looked at him and shook his head. So… they wouldn't let him contact Jovay. Not surprising. Also not surprising that Oz would find a way somehow. It just required more thought and a lot of luck.

"Can we get a couple fans in here?" Janson wondered. "I'm sticky all the time."

"Not touching that one," Hobbie muttered.

"I've asked. They've been requisitioned elsewhere already." Dress dropped onto the battered sofa. "I also requested an additional pilot."

To replace Biggs who replaced whoever replaced the one before him. "Maybe we should just retire Red Three," Luke said quietly. "It seems to be an unlucky number."

"Biggs was Red _Five. You_ were Three...remember?"

Sometimes it was hard to keep all the lies straight. Luke stared at his hands and didn't reply.

Zev slapped his cards on the table, startling everyone. "Boss, why are we pretending Oz can't fly? We know he was Five, and we know that he—"

"That's enough!" Not the tone with which Garven normally addressed them and it surprised them into silence. "Darklighter was Five, he destroyed the Death Star and died in action. Period, end of discussion. Nothing contradictory to be repeated ever."

"But why—"

"No one can retaliate against a dead man." Wedge shifted restlessly. "And Command doesn't trust Oz anyway."

"Antilles—"

"Oh, c'mon, Boss!" Janson protested. "We all know Oz was arrested and released, so obviously he's innocent of whatever they thought. Besides, he's too—"

"I'm right here," Luke reminded him quickly.

"—he's too fashionable to be a spy," Janson finished and shot him a grin.

Zev tapped his fingers on the table. "And another thing… why in hells would a Force sensitive kid be left homeless on a Rim dustball? It doesn't make sense and it's damn near criminal!"

"Where would you rather he be left?" Wedge snapped. "In the Core, so Vader could kill him like the others?"

Okay… so Wedge didn't know Vader was his dad. But he knew about the Devastator. Far too many people knew too much… that was not a thought he wanted to follow to its logical conclusion because that would involve eliminating people he cared about, which didn't sound very Jedi-like.

Maybe he was a Sith.

Maybe this whole  _ going-to-see-Yoda _ thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

"You know the problem?" Porkins asked dreamily. "It's like when you're sitting on an egg, expecting it to be a varactyl, but when it hatches it turns out to be a rancor."

After a few moments of silence in the room, Hobbie said, "I don't think rancors come from eggs. And really, how often do you sit on eggs, Pork?"

"That was just an example! I'm saying that's what Oz is like. Smart-ass troublemaker turned into… whatever he is now."

"Oh, we know what he is… or will be," Zev drawled. "The question is, what is Red Squad going to do with a Jedi?"

Boss crossed to the table, pulled out a chair and sat heavily. "Krit. Stop speculating."

"I'm _not_ a _Jedi!_ In fact… what if I'm a Sith?" Luke offered helpfully.

"Oh, that would be so much better." Unexpectedly Zev chuckled. "Well, you _are_ our resident Vader Whisperer, so who knows?"

"Please!" Janson objected. "Oz doesn't know Darth any better than I do! He just has a man-crush on the Big Man in Black. And… I mean… _really…_ who doesn't?"

 _Ewwww._ Luke grimaced, then decided he could use the distraction. "If you think he looks great now," he told Janson, "you should see his formal dress uniform!"

"When did you see—"

"On a broadcast." He warmed to the subject. "It's a beautiful smoky grey with silver braided trim, even on the boots. Furry cuffs and collar."

"Really? I've never seen—"

"And the cloak! Well…."

"What?" Janson leaned forward eagerly.

"It's even darker, a deep grey-blue...and the lining is crimson satin!"

Janson's eyes grew huge. "Are you kidding me?! That would be amaz— Oh, krit, you _are_ kidding me! ...Aren't you?"

"Gods, you should see your face!" Hobbie exclaimed.

Janson sniffed. "It doesn't matter whether that's true or not. Now I have a new image to dream ab—"

An alarm blared outside their door, five short warnings, repeating, cutting through the laughter like a blade. The pilots leaped up, grabbed their orange jumpsuits and were out the door before Luke could ask anything.

"Stay here!" Boss shouted as he raced down the steps.

"I—" But there was no one left to hear his protest. He stood outside, shifting nervously, watching as pilots poured across the compound heading for the hangar. He couldn't sense Imperial warships—but would he be able to? He really needed more training.

_Please let them all come back. Please…._

Hovering by the hangar entry, he was relieved to see the cockpits emptying as the pilots spilled out of their fighters to surround Commander Narra.

"You need to shave twenty seconds off your reaction time—the more, the better. We need to be much faster when we face an attack."

Luke exhaled shakily and shook his head, not prepared to listen to the rest of the lecture which sounded like it was going to go on for awhile. He went outside to enjoy the miserably hot night air. Leaning against the side of the giant pyramid, he closed his eyes, thinking of Mos Eisley. On a night like this, he'd be sweaty from a long day in the sun, smoking cheap spice, spying on the activities of revelers who—

"Hi."

He started and opened his eyes, staring at the crooked smile of Dayan.

Well… this was unexpected and… sticky.

Straightening, he felt… annoyed. "Why're you still here?"

"Nice to see you too." The man folded his arms. "Sorry about the other night. I don't usually come on so strong. But you really are—"

"Don't." Luke shook his head. "I understand. You were grieving. Are you doing okay?"

"Best I can."

"Then..." He hesitated. "Why are you still here?"

"No transport available. I put in for a hardship exit and got approved, but it'll be awhile before I get one to Lah'mu."

"That's a long way." An idea began to form in his head. _Never waste an asset,_ his dad taught him. "Maybe I can help with that," Luke said slowly. "Maybe we can help each other."

Dayan gave him a sideways look. "How much do you want?"

"What d'you—" _Oh_. "No, I've given that up." _Again_. "I just need a message to get out to someone. Think you can do that if I can get you a transport tomorrow?"

"Depends. Is it illegal...or treason? One side or the other?"

"No, it's personal. Going to an Imp, but personal."

Dayan shrugged. "As long as it won't get me arrested or killed, sure."

"Meet me here at 0615 tomorrow."

"So early?" Dayan looked him up and down in a way that definitely was uncomfortable. "I'll meet you here later tonight if you want."

"I…" Luke hesitated. "If I say no, will you still take the message?"

"If I say no, will you meet me here later?"

He shook his head. "No. Deal or no deal?"

Dayan gave him a half-smile and tilted his head. "Deal."

Luke nodded and left, slipping unnoticed into the hangar where the lecture was still going on. He just needed a couple minutes alone to record a message for Jovay… and for his dad.


End file.
